


Murder and Mages

by DawnThorn, Gremlin_of_Space, LimeAmoeba



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Abuse, Aftercare, Angst, Anxiety, BDSM elements, Dark Fantasy, Empires - Freeform, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gallifreyan Culture (Doctor Who), Gallifreyan Empire, Genocide, Government Experimentation, M/M, Magic AU, Multi, PTSD, Slavery, Smut, Soulmate AU, Torture, Violence, but make it magic, evil government, government aided genocide, it’s cute and soft I promise you, mentions of abuse, mentions of torture, mentions of trauma, shit got dark quick, soft, they help each other through trauma, they’re dumb and in love, think this as the hunger games meets v for vendetta, two idiots in love they just don’t admit it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:55:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 41,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26911006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnThorn/pseuds/DawnThorn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gremlin_of_Space/pseuds/Gremlin_of_Space, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LimeAmoeba/pseuds/LimeAmoeba
Summary: In the Gallifreyan Empire, Emperor Rassilion works with his High Council of sorcerers to bring order to a ‘chaotic’ world filled with Normals and unruly mages. Slavery is their pillar for society and they destroy those in opposition. It was a shame for them that a previous empress, one Romanadvoratrelundar, created a clause, The Timeless Child Clause, enabling any mage children of the Founding Houses full right to the throne.The Clause was bound in an ancient magic; unyielding and irrefutable.The revolution believed there was only one surviving house member, a young woman who gave birth to an extraordinary mage. This mage would soon grow up into a beacon of hope for all though the High Council grow aggravated with her.It’d be an even bigger shame if the assassin they sent to kill her has a traitorous heart; a heart that beats for his target.
Relationships: Borusa/Chancellor Goth (Doctor Who), Eleventh Doctor/River Song, Eleventh Doctor/River Song/Original Character, Tenth Doctor/The Master (Simm), The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan), Twelfth Doctor/Missy
Comments: 47
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all. Gremlin here. This fic was originally a prompt to me (given by Dawn) and eventually I gave up writing on my own and we started to write it together. 
> 
> Happy belated birthday to us (we share the same day).
> 
> As usual, please read the tags and notes. All warnings will be placed here. 
> 
> Warnings: mentions of slavery. Mild mentions of torture and abuse.

The people of Tardisia called her ‘ _Tredicum’_ in their language. It meant ‘thirteen’ and was their way of showing her respect and trust, acceptance even. They only called her by her sorceress title ‘ _The Doctor_ ’ when it was of great importance and that she should give them her undivided attention.

_Latinae_ was almost a dead language thanks to the High Council and Emperor Rassilon. They wanted colonies pasts stomped out so that the new generations would only know of Gallifreyan lies. It was only thanks to Unus, the first Grand Sorcerer and protector of Tardisia, showing he had a backbone that Latinae and several cultural practices survived.

Tredicum saw it as the first little spark of rebellion and she made sure that in her era, all knew of their past. It was Tardisia’s little secret just like the escape routes into Apalapucia (Undecim was the one to forge the bridge between the two cities) in the case of a siege. Sadly, Apalapucia fell to a great plague that Tredicum knew the High Council had a hand in but it was a perfect hiding spot for displaced citizens (it was a graveyard that was never patrolled by guards).

She was the thirteenth Grand Sorceress of the city, since her people didn't count Prelium (the Grand Sorcerer of War) as one of their protectors. The people had loved her even before she was announced as Duodecim's successor. 

It had come as a shock when the High Council had named her as the next Grand Sorceress to follow in the footsteps of her friend and mentor Duodecim (well, she was the _only_ candidate to be honest; Tardisia was a hot mess to put it lightly). He had died in the line of duty, protecting the city from the Cybermen.

The Cybermen were a collective of enhanced beings, tech and flesh becoming one. They were originally created by the Mondasians to have an army against the disease which was Gallifrey. Through the help of spies, the spells and enchantments needed to create one of these armies were leaked. All that was needed was a Tech Mage and a Blood Mage to bind all of the pieces together. 

Duodecim was an Elemental Mage and in a final desperate act to protect his people, he burnt up decatriatoms and decatriatoms of land and himself. No body was found, only ash. His soulmate, Dominae Sicarius (a master assassin) knew the exact moment he died and she passed away shortly thereafter from a broken heart (caused by the soulmate bond snapping cleanly in two) whilst his slave, Nardole was handed down to Tredicum once she stepped up to the role.

She hated slavery with a fucking passion (and that was putting it mildly) so she let Nardole have his own life and he did; he found a lovely family in the form of an orphanage matron and her wards. Nardole was forever grateful and he’d come around for a chat and tea which, admittedly, she needed. 

Yes, she had friends (she liked to call them ‘her fam’) but they didn’t understand how utterly shit her life was sometimes (more like she doesn’t even tell them in the first place). Tredicum had a complicated existence and it was only those who knew of the old ways that could understand her frustrations. 

Tardisia was a city in the Terra Province, which used to be an upstanding county, and was now part of Gallifreyan Empire. Gallifrey had managed to take over the entirety of the Sakkaran continent and installed its agents as ‘protectors’ in every single village, town and city. The Gallifreyans used magic wielders to install fear and order amongst the new empire with the High Council (asshole council more like) dictating the movements of all of those with the curse of magic (Tredicum being one of those unlucky fools). 

The High Council did report back to Emperor Rassilon and listened to his every word but in reality, they were the ones in charge. They were also the people that Tredicum managed to piss off the most. 

Under their tyranny, those with magic would survive but the Normals, the ‘Disabled’ would be ridiculed to the end of their days. The Normals were canon fodder and slavery was what kept the empire ticking away.

If you couldn't pay off debts, slavery.

If you spoke out against the High Council, slavery.

If a sorcerer had the tiniest fucking grudge against you, slavery. 

Slavery. Slavery. Fucking slavery. 

Her predecessor tried to end it in Tardisia but Tredicum was the one to enforce its abolishment. After her upgrade from leader of a small village to a jam-packed city, she issued a new law that meant that any and all slaves that stepped foot upon Tardisian grounds (the city limits ended about a hundred decatriatoms from city walls) were immediately freed and given asylum (plus citizenship for legal reasons). 

Honestly, the High Council should never have allowed any of the Grand Sorcerers to have total control over their domain. It was a big mistake on their end that Tredicum was all too willing to exploit. 

The sorceress changed the whole entire system so that being a slave wasn’t the only solution (in fact, it wasn’t an option at all now). Yes, a majority of the population were poor and were unable to do much for the economy but she cared for them regardless if they were Normals or sorcerers. She endorsed free and always available healthcare; made sure that the children had an equal and outstanding education and even forced employers to actually do their job (you know, _employ_ people). 

Over the past twenty years, Tardisia had improved dramatically and soon, many of the other towns and villages filled with Normals wanted to be safely tucked away behind the city's domain. Admittedly, Tredicum may have started a few revolutions in other cities but what could anybody do against her? Tardisia was becoming a beacon of light and hope for the oppressed and if the High Council destroyed Tardisia, the whole entire continent would revolt (and they would also lose access to valuable resources). Yes, Tardisia was quite safe by the seaside cliffs and mines. 

* * *

The artist assassin, only known by his stage name ‘ _The Master’_ , watched Emperor Rassilon over the rim of his golden cup, swirling the far too sour wine in it. “Just to make sure, I fully understand you.” He had understood him the very first time well enough, but he got a thrill out of annoying other sorcerers. “You want me to take out one of your own? A feeble woman, nonetheless?” He laughed without humor. “You are wasting my time, Emperor. I only accept targets that are worthy of my skills and time.” He put the cup down and had risen to leave. 

“This sorceress is not anyone. If we could, we would have gotten rid of her already. The problem with her is, she was an apprentice of Duodecim. She had learned under him for almost a hundred years which introduced her to the Disabled as some sort of saviour instead of being someone that needs to be feared under all accounts.”

The name ‘Duodecim’ piqued his interest. “I am listening, Emperor.” Everyone had heard about the bravery with which Duodecim fought off the Cybermen to protect his people. Every single Grand Sorcerer of Tardisia always ended up dying in a stupid and honestly, unnecessary manner. 

“This sorceress, _Tredicum_ ,” Rassilon spat that name out as if it was some sort of acid burning his mouth and tongue. “She is giving the Disabled hope and takes in fleeing slaves to free them and this is only what we can prove. My spies are struggling as the entire city has closed ranks; there’s minimal flow of information with the local council on the verge of being thrown out-“

“You are boring me again Emperor. She is still only a sorceress.” The Master sounded really annoyed and entertained the thought of killing the Emperor instead (just for fun. Who didn’t like a coup?) 

“She is a _Tech Mage_ , for the lack of a better term..” Rassilon smiled sinisterly (all teeth and false appraisal) upon seeing The Master sit down and giving him his full attention. “ _The Doctor_ , which is her official title, has the ability to control electricity and metals. She can manipulate every technical device she comes upon which makes her hard to kill and none of our assassins have knowledge of _traditional_ methods of killing. Besides, the Disabled around her are very protective of her. They are even willing to die for her so that poises an issue.” 

Wow, this sounded almost impossible. Emphasis on the ‘almost’. It’s been a while since he had such an exciting challenge. 

“I accept,” was all The Master said before the Emperor could say anything more.

“Splendid. The Council and myself just have the perfect plan to help you enter the city without raising too much of any kind of suspicion, Master.” The smile of the Emperor had become ugly.

“What, you giving me as a slave gift to her?” The Master joked.

“Yes and no. No because you would be immediately a free man upon entering Tardisian territory. Yes: you will enter the city as a slave of a merchant but not without the proper preparations, of course. Perhaps a beating or two, mm?” Only years of harsh training and bodily endurance prevented the Master from flinching at those last words…

* * *

That fucking Emperor! 

The Master should have killed him instead of accepting the contract to kill the sorceress. He had been whipped, shaved, drugged, bound and shoved in a small crate. To top it off, he was labeled on the cargo list as a pleasure item…

The Emperor had way too much fun forcing a ring gag between the Master’s lips as well as putting him in a cock cage and as a final touch wedging a butt plug in his rear. As soon as he had killed the Doctor, he would kill the Emperor for all the humiliation he had to endure. 

The question was though, did the Emperor know about the true Master? What and who he was? Perhaps the humiliation was just the High Council getting back at the one mage who would never be a part of their little genocidal maniacs club? 

He tried to rationalise his reason for being here, in a little crate but he couldn’t come up with any other reason other than that he was intrigued. The Doctor was an enigma; an eerily familiar one at that. 

She was a small girl, judging by the picture he was shown, but he couldn't be sure of it. Rassilon couldn't or wouldn't tell him when the picture was taken and his brain was going into overdrive at the sight of hauntingly familiar hazel eyes. He felt like he knew her but in reality, she was a complete stranger. 

That didn’t matter though; everybody that had magic knew of a young girl who became a sort of prodigy overnight but nobody had really met her as she was squirrelled away to a small village in the middle of nowhere once she graduated from Duodecim’s tutoring. Many of the other Grand Sorcerers wanted to meet and use this ‘Doctor’ for their own gains (something about her ‘being a genius even for a scatter-brained sorceress’) and the Master was offered money in order to hunt her down a few times (he always rejected those offers). She was a puzzle kept away from society by the High Council until they needed somebody to sort out Tardisia and who better than the pupil of the city’s deceased leader (stupid, stupid idea). 

The Master groaned against the gag when the crate jostled and his shoulder was pressed hard against the wood. Again. If he was able to properly examine his shoulder, it would probably be bruised and battered, maybe dislocated? Everything ached, especially his wrists and ankles where the shackles rubbed into his skin. 

It brought back memories that he spent years suppressing and the Master was all too grateful for when the most recent sedative finally took over and he was thrown into an uncomfortable sleep. 

* * *

The rain was pelting down on Tredicum but she didn’t really feel it as the numbness inside of her became overwhelming and when everything felt overwhelming, that always warranted a stroll through her city. 

When she left her small repair shop (it was her form of income besides her position as Grand Sorcerer) to stroll through her city, she tended to wear the clothes of the city people to feel more like one of them. She loathed her sorceress robes with a passion as they reminded her of who she owed her very existence to.

The outfit she wore right now, was secondhand and very well-worn; her blue trousers had little tears and her battered grey coat was covered in grease and burns. Let’s not even mention the state of her white undershirt. 

Thank the gods she knew how to wash and repair clothes. The benefits of living in a farming community for a few hundred years. 

A walk made her feel alive though the rain made the city look dead in its muted greys and metals. The usual bright clothes that hung in between houses were dulled by moisture. There were no stalls in the market and only a select few people walked the streets. For Tredicum, rain also meant anonymity though she could never really hide from her duties. 

She had received a message from one of her fam, Yaz to be precise, that a ship from Skaro had docked at the harbour to take in fresh provisions. She felt very uneasy about them docking at the cliff side harbour; Skaro was well known to make money through slave trade so having a ship dock for even the smallest period of time was a worry. 

It wouldn’t be the first time Skaro slavers would try to get away with black market trading, whether that was selling or catching 'fresh meat'. 

She had easily hacked her way into the cargo list. Sure, as Grand Sorceress she could have requested to be shown the list, but where would have been the fun in doing that? 

There was one item on the list that had her hackles raised immediately. 

Pleasure item… 

With a ship coming from Skaro this could mean anything; a machine or a new drug or even worse a human. She wasn’t really on friendly terms with Skaro but they all played nice for the moment as long as Gallifrey kept pushing against Skaro borders (the joy of being a renegade City was that a majority of the time, enemies of the Empire were friends of Tardisia). Just because she was alright with the nation, it didn't mean she couldn’t cause havoc. 

After a quick stop at her apartment, she donned the disguise of Jane Smith, a woman with long, brown hair reaching down to her lower back since she had acquired quite some infamoucy with the traders from Skaro. They would keep their eyes out for a petite blonde, but not for the brown haired Jane Smith, picking up supplies from the harbour for the hospital together with nurse Grace O’Brien.

“Ah, glad you could make it, Jane. The fresh supplies from our trade with Nirn have arrived.” Grace greeted her in Latinae in her warm alto voice. The older, umber skinned woman helped Jane up on the back of the small truck to hand her down the crates of medical supplies.

They were close enough to the ship that Tredicum could use her power to check it for additional life signs. She was a Tech Mage after all and electricity was one of her favourite specialties. Every single organism has electrical impulses in the brain and so it was quite easy to check how many people were still on the ship. According to the crew list the ship had a total of 65 members plus 30 guards; only 5 were left near the ship for protection with the promise of a guard change after half of the docking time.

The supplies would be delivered soon after they would be done with storing away the meds and other medical equipment for the transport to the hospitals and then she would get on that ship as part of her disguise. Jane Smith was listed as a harbour worker for loading and unloading ships where the cranes couldn’t be used, after all, it was a perfect reason to be on the ship whilst snooping. 

Tredicum tapped into the electricity all around her and listened to the flow whilst handing small crates to Grace. It always took her some time to get the current sorted out but from previous experience, it was best to let the electricity run its course on its own instead of forcing it.

A tremendous advantage of this approach was in case of danger she could always call on the current around her without asking as well as the metal surrounding her. Yeah, okay, maybe she was wound up a bit tight to be thinking about tactical advantages when just doing surveillance. 

What could she say in defence other than her anxiety and paranoia were acting up?

At first, she felt only Grace and all the other dockworkers helping around them, but slowly and surely, she felt the metal of the transporters, the electric cables in the ground, the soldiers near the ship, the ship itself and a strange current she couldn’t identify (it was more like a beacon in its intimate uniqueness). It was definitely alive, but if it was a human or an animal, she couldn’t tell (it was just so…so _feral_ ). According to the cargo list there was no life stock listed and the crew as well as the soldiers were on a completely different list.

That left only one option: a human slave and probably drugged since she couldn’t clearly feel them. Being in a drug induced haze would definitely make anybody feel like an animal to Tredicum (the electrical current in their brain was going haywire). A spark of anger showed on her hands, the crackle of electricity only noticed by Grace who was near enough to her. 

“Calm down, Tredicum. Keep your cool. We are almost done here and then I can cause a distraction.” Grace tried her best to calm the sorceress down and it worked a bit; she could always rely on the older Medi Mage for balance and support. 

If they wanted to enter that ship they needed to make sure that no one would notice that the city’s Grand Sorceress was at the harbour (the disguise should help). Grace watched the younger mage take a few steading breaths the staticky air became easier to inhale (though there was still a lot of charge).

They finished unloading the trucks just in time for the arrival of the cargo for the Skaro ship. The soldiers eyed them warrily but didn’t say anything after the usual check of the dockworker list. They guarded heavy duty crates and Tredicum couldn’t help but eye them up in curiosity; nobody brought shipped large, metal boxes with no stickers stating what they are other than a series number and barcode. She wanted to enforce stricter border security checks but this harbour was a form of neutral territory (the High Council did give Tardisia management though).

It was in agreement that no parties would force anybody to enclose what their true intentions were. The soldiers of Skaro couldn’t say anything nor start any shit with the two women (unless, of course, Tredicum showed her true nature) but that went the same way; Tredicum couldn’t walk straight up and say ‘what’s in your box?’ without starting a territory war. 

That didn’t mean they could do a little pilfering and checking now and then. Especially when it came to slave imports. 

As promised, Grace caused a distraction that allowed Tredicum to slip away into the bowel of the ship (when she got back to the city, she’d definitely needed to pay the fishermen a hefty sum for their troubles). She followed the feral beacon she had detected earlier only to stumble upon a _wooden_ crate (okay, this one was definitely special). She checked the number on it with the data she could access via her wrist comp (a weird fusion of a wristwatch and a data pad), one of her newest inventions. The wrist comp kept all necessary information at hand and with her knack to forget things (more like completely lose her train of thought for something else), it made everything ten times easier.

The sorceress swallowed hard at the sight of the box; the pleasure item according to the cargo list. She pressed her ear against the wood and tried to listen for any kind of noise, but couldn’t even hear a breathing sound. Tredicum was worried that the crate was nailed shut. How, in Rassilon's name, did they want to provide the poor being inside with water and food?! (They probably didn’t give two damn thoughts about their cargo, just that they got paid).

Placing her hand on the wood she stretched out her senses to the nails keeping the lid shut and it didn’t take much persuasion on her part to make the nails melt. Carefully removing the board she slapped her hand before her mouth just in time to prevent any sound from leaving her lips in case there were any random patrols. 

There was a person inside the crate! 

Her breathing became faster as her nervousness rose (what the fuck was she meant to do?). Anxiety gave way to anger and her hand shook a bit as adrenaline started to course through her veins. Those bastards had actually shoved a person in that crate! 

The smell that hit her nose just a few seconds later made her almost throw up. Human odors: sweat, piss, the infection on his back from the whipping and whatever they gave him for sedation permeated from the crate. Swallowing a few times she actually (somehow) managed to keep her breakfast down as she peered back down into the crate. 

* * *

His head hurt, his body hurt, his brain was a foggy mess and he was so goddamn thirsty. He winced in pain as his dark prison became brighter and he blinked owlishly up, he thought for a moment that he could see a person looking at him. 

He must be imagining things. 

Taking stock of his body, as much as his sluggish mind allowed for it, he assessed himself as a goner; death was sure to be coming soon and he’d meet her with open arms. Another wince left his throat as that stupid gag was removed from his lips. 

“Sh, it’s alright. It will be once I will get you out of this crate and we have a healer at the docks that will patch you up, yeah?” The voice was soft and reassuring and the Master leant into her gentle touch subconsciously. “Then, we can get you to the hospital. How does that sound?” The Master’s whole body started trembling as a gentle hand combed softly through his matted hair. This was a wonderful fever dream before his end, he thought as he lost consciousness once more.

* * *

It was a bit of a struggle to remove the other sides of the crate and move the poor bastard out of it. What was slightly weird about the man was that though he looked completely and utterly worn out, he also looked well fed. _Maybe the owner liked their toys looking ‘normal’_ , she thought. By the time she had him on his front (she didn't want to put pressure on his infected back) and away from the crate, she was panting heavily and her arms ached terribly. She took off her coat and draped it over his sleeping form in order to give him some dignity before reassembling the crate. 

Rule number one of breaking slaves free: make it look like nothing had happened. 

Tredicum assembled the four sides before finding some metal (she may or may have not used a fair amount of the engine out of spite) to recreate the slaves weight. Then, through a little manipulation, she reformed the nails and replaced the top. 

That was step one done. Now, how the fuck was she meant to get him out of here? If he wasn’t drugged up to his eyeballs, they could walk out of here towards Grace but no, the traders had to sedate him. 

She grimaced at the thought of when he’d have to go through withdrawal. She remembered her own rehab all too well. 

Fuck, how was she meant to do this? Right, don’t panic, just do what you need to do. 

The sorceress quickly ran up to the deck and poked her head over the side of the ship. Grace spotted her and made a ‘ _what are you doing?_ ’ motion with her hands. Tredicum held her hands up in a bound position before pointing down. She then mimed for _‘sedated’_ (it was very similar to _‘asleep’_ ) and Grace looked a bit panicked. Great, even the elder was stressed. Tredicum looked around for the harbour before grinning that feral smile of hers. 

_Bingo_. 

She motioned towards a group of fishermen (the same ones who caused the first distraction) and twirled her finger around before jutting her thumb behind her. Grace got the message pretty easily and soon she was talking to the group of men. They didn’t talk for long and soon, they were heading toward their boat. 

“Right then, Doctor,” she muttered to herself. “Let’s get a shift on.”

A boat pulled up beside the trading ship and the woman quickly made her way to the other side of the deck. She poked her side over the railing. 

“Got a man, he’s sedated and pretty heavy. Need one or two of you lads to help me,” she whispered and she got a nod from the crew. She backed away and made her way back to the slave, knowing that somebody would follow her. 

He hadn’t moved once since Tredicum had left. Sure, she could have used her metal manipulation technique to create a flat surface and make it float, but even after three-hundred years, she was still lacking the necessary concentration to pull this stunt off for a long time. Two of the fishermen appeared beside her, also accessing the situation.

Wilfred the Fourth removed his jacket and exchanged it with the sorceress’ coat. “Wouldn’t want them to get suspicious ‘bout why you’re missing a piece of clothing lassy, right?” The old fisherman was the only one who called her this and from time to time invited her over for tea if she could manage to find the time in her busy schedule (not only was she the Grand Sorceress, but also the local repairman). He was good to her, always making sure she was alright. _‘It’s the Noble prerogative’_ he had said and Tredicum knew he was a descendent of Donna Noble (one of Decem’s best friends and protector/the-person-to-knock-some-sense-into-his-stupid-sorcerer-brain). 

Carefully bundled up, the fishermen carried the slave, while the sorceress scouted the way up to make sure they weren’t caught at this critical moment. Skaro was a paranoid country (who wouldn’t be with your neighbour being an insane empire) and the guards were meant to make a patrol pretty soon. 

They made it to the deck with no problems and soon, she saw the poor man lowered down with ropes to the waiting fisherboat. Tredicum allowed herself a breath of relief. Time to make their retreat. 

She just arrived in time to give Grace a signal that everything was done and that they could load up the remaining supplies. Then, she jumped down to the fishing boat and settled down beside her ward in the cabin. He moaned and Tredicum shushed him, brushing a stray lock of his hair out of his face. His hair was scruffy and long enough that she could’ve tugged on it and pulled his head this way and that. _Probably how his owners liked it,_ she pondered.

“It’s alright, it’s all good,” she soothed and lent back against the ship wall. “I’ll take care of ya.”

* * *

The Master’s mind drifted in and out of consciousness, succumbing to the drugs still running through his veins. One time he even imagined that his body was floating and he wasn’t as cold as before. Was he flying or was this how dying felt? He had never considered this before. He was, by many means, a believer of the goddess Jouchun but right now, if he was being carried away to the after life, he’d worship Mors if it only ment that the pain would stop. 

Dying by a drug induced fever was the one option the Master had never thought of. Sure, he’d kill people with drugs but never even thought that this would be how he’d meet his maker. 

He gave a sigh, feeling the relaxant in his veins kill him back to sleep. 

* * *

Wilfred had seen enough of the poor man before him to know that the lad was a pleasure slave (you see one, you’ve seen them all and Wilfred had rescued a lot of slaves with the Grand Sorceress). So young and already damned. Poor thing. With those slaves you never knew what kind of drugs they had been given or how much they had been brainwashed and only time would tell but he was praying that they still had time to save him. 

Tardisia had a massive issue with Stenzan slavers bringing in their cargo a few years back and it was one of the worst retrieval missions he had seen. Nearly a hundred men, women and children were on those ships and they only managed to save about twenty. All the others ‘perished’ in transit to the hospital; some couldn’t fight off intentions and the rest died by their own hands, unable to adjust to the world. It was about the same time when Tredicum brought in a new rehabilitation rule: live with another survivor and have constant therapy. 

The pleasure slaves were always the ones in the worst conditions. 

Unseen from any prying eyes, Wilfred and his crew docked at a different part of the harbour, one which hadn't been used in the past year. It was hidden by several large warehouses and right next to a discrete back road that led to the hospital in the suburbs. 

They all fell deadly silent upon noticing that someone was already expecting them at the dock. The necromancer, River Song, was standing beside a van that looked trivially normal with its white colour, as if it didn’t hold the key to saving someone’s life. The tall woman with her curly blond hair and her sorceress staff clicked her fingers and from the van came a team of two doctors and two nurses with a stretcher ready.

One would think that having four attending medics was a lot for one person but they had learnt the hard way it was always best to be prepared for the worst. The man they rescued could turn violent or have a sudden complication that would lead to death. Skaro and the Stenza were all too fond of being ‘experimental’. 

Wilfred was somewhat used to the mysterious behaviour of River, she was a constant factor in Tardisian life (some said she had been around since Unus), but his fellow fishermen, who spent more time by the shore rather than in the city, looked like they were ready to piss their pants. 

She was an old friend of Undecim (which would make the rumour impossible) and was once the head of Apalapucia until the plague eradicated the city (now she did everything to thwart the Empire). He told the crew everything he had seen and what he had concluded about the nameless slave; Tredicum was still by the man's side in the cabin, crouching over him like a guardian angel. In a way, she was to those she chose to protect. 

River nodded in understanding. Being a necromancer had many advantages for her. She could raise a dead body if needed and she could communicate with souls even as far as offering her body as a vessel to the ghost to do her bidding. In her vast collection of souls were quite a few elemental sorcerers who were always willing to lend a hand.

The Death Mage pulled out a bound, blue book, flicking through the pages before stopping and touching a brown eagle feather on her necklace. She murmured under her breath, calling upon some old friends for help. Blinking once, her eyes changed from a light brown to a deep night blue . The Element Mage that now inhabited the woman raised her staff above her head and called upon the winds to gently lift the unconscious man on the stretcher with Tredicum slinking out of the cabin and hopping onto the dock. She pulled off the wig as River (or whoever this spirit was) made sure to place him in the recovery position to not further aggravate his back, but also to make it easier for the medical team to reach everything quite easily.

They hooked him up to liquids straightaway and did a quick test for antibiotic allergies (they lost one woman due to anaphylactic shock so now it was common practice to check) before adding the strongest concoction they had at hand to the mix dripping into his veins. They had saved more battered slaves and had high hopes to get him back to health rather quickly but that didn’t mean the man could suddenly take a turn for the worse. It wouldn’t be the first time nor the last. The cock cage was rather easy to remove but the plug… 

“Professor Song, we might need a hand here.” The female doctor approached her and when said professor walked around the stretcher, River saw the problem. The plug had been inside for quite some time by the looks of it and the bodily liquids had it stuck in place. Tredicum followed the elder mage's footsteps and winced at the sight. 

“I see,” spoke a deep male bass voice from the professor. She (or he, Tredicum couldn’t work out who was in charge) opened the Blue book again, turned a page and touched a small glass vial filled with a clear liquid, probably water, and their eye colour changed once more. This time to a light violet. 

“Leave it to me. I will remove it as painlessly as possible. Nonetheless, did you already give him something to keep him under?” The voice was now a soft female soprano whisper.

“Yes, after the first tox screen we gave him something to keep him sedated, but also flushes the traders drugs from his body.” The male nurse answered her, organising tools and sterilising the area. 

“Good.” The staff was raised again and the sorceress started another enchantment, covering her hand in water. “I can and will help you to the best of my abilities, but please keep in mind, I am only a water sorceress and not a Medi Mage. I can help flush the infections from his body as well as remove that contraption, but I can’t knit skin together.”

“As long as you keep the infection at bay, we will take care of the rest until Grace can aid us. She’s the most senior mage,” the male doctor assured her. The stretcher was finally loaded into the back of the van and River bid a farewell to the fishermen, before entering the back as well. Only behind closed doors did she start the slow extraction process. The smell was horrible and the liquids coming from his back side looked even worse.

Tredicum felt useless and knocked on the door, opening it ever so slightly. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” asked the Grand Sorceress when the necromancer started her work. She received a _‘no’_ so she settled by the man's head, carding her fingers through his hair nervously. “How long will this take? Can we transport him back to the city yet? It’s just that I don’t want to get caught and-“ 

“Shush, sweetie. I’m working here.” The voice was Rivers and Tredicum bit her lip in annoyance. It wasn’t an affirmative nor a negative and she just wanted to get this poor man into a proper sterilised and secure location. And besides, she was pretty sure the local council had a meeting in a few hours that was rather important. 

But…no, the meeting didn’t matter. He did though, this nameless slave. He gave a slight wince even while he was knocked out when River had finished whatever she needed to do; lilac eyes turned to normal brown and she smiled at the Grand Sorceress. Tredicum nodded her head in gratitude before she was gently nudged out of the way. The group of nurses and doctors were prepping for transport and she stepped out of the van, moving away from the group. 

“Page me when you get to the hospital,” she ordered and the group chorused back their understanding. She replaced the wig, pulling the hood up over her fringe and headed back to Grace. 

She’d only be gone for maybe twenty or thirty minutes but the Medi Mage was leaning against the truck, looking thoroughly concerned. 

“Everythin’ alright, love?” Tredicum shook her head before climbing into the passenger seat. She curled up, knees tucked up to her chest. 

“Why would they think they could get away with…with _that_?! Skaro knows our laws; no slavery in Tardisian waters and grounds but no, they thought they could get away with it.” The woman growled and sighed. “We need to get back to the hospital soon, they need you.” 

She’d really need to get stronger enchantments along the borders in place but there weren't any freelance mages who could make barriers and walls; the High council made sure they would only work for the Gallifreyan army. Maybe she should start weaving spells again into the databanks? Seemed far more efficient than having Yaz double and triple check any trading vessels. Maybe that was something she could- 

Grace interrupted her train of thought. 

“Have you talked to Ashildr lately?” Grace was steadily switching from watching the road to glancing at the younger mage beside her. 

There was a beat of silence before Tredicum answered. 

“No…” she trailed off and Grace sighed. 

“Listen, sweetheart. You gotta start opening up. What you’ve experience is traumatic and anybody would-“

“Anybody would what? Crack under pressure?" Tredicum gave a sardonic laugh and turned her head to look out of the window. “I’m not anybody, am I? Got you lot to look out for and an empire to destroy. No time to ‘open up’.”

This was a recurring argument between her and Grace; as soon as Grace heard the faintest whisper of what Tredicum had experienced when she was a young, normal girl, she went into mother hen mode. She had sent Tredicum to a therapist, Ashildr (platonic mate to the one and only Clara Oswald, teacher of all magics) but Tredicum wouldn’t talk much. She spent three-hundred years suppressing memories and the feelings that were associated with them. No way was she gonna let a stranger in on her secret. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late, life is a bitch.
> 
> Warning: disease, plague, borderline Corona Virus

_Beep… beep… beep…_

The Master groaned in exhaustion, his very bones aching as he tried to stretch. 

His body was numb in many places, but overall, he was in no pain, just stiff and his throat felt parched. Slowly, his sluggish mind became more focused and he noticed the soft bed and sheets and the irritating beeping sound. He tried to turn onto his side and snuggle into the pillow, but a soft voice and an even softer hand on his shoulder stopped him. 

“Take it easy, love, you are still very battered.” The woman took his hand in hers. "I’m Head Nurse Grace and I am responsible for you. Try to press my hand, yes, just like that. Now your other hand, splendid. We were worried that the shackles had cut too deep into your tissue and damaged your nerves, but it’s looking good so far. You still have fluid IV’s but please, try to drink something yourself anyway.” He felt something being pressed against his lips which he identified as straw. He closed his lips around the plastic and after a few tries, cool water found its way down his throat, soothing a near-constant burn. 

He was only using primal, basic instincts before his higher brain functions returned to him. Yes, the Master remembered, I’m on a mission. He had to find out where he exactly was and how best to find his target, the Doctor.

“Where…?” His voice was ruff from being unused for quite some time. Shit! For how long had he been knocked out?!

“You’re in Tardisia, love.” Nurse Grace smiled at him with understanding as he opened his eyes in surprise and stared at her.

“Impossible…” His hand clenched the sheets in anger. “I don’t… believe you…” Tears collected in his eyes. “I have been…” he took a deep breath to gather himself. “To hospitals like this. The likes of me… we stay until healed and then…” he closed his eyes in pain, unable to finish his sentence and unable to look at the gently smiling nurse any longer. It was all a lie though, an intricately made persona the Master came up in a second. Well, it wasn’t the first time he had to bullshit his way so quickly but Gods, his head hurt. 

He had a role to play and convince people that he was just a scared pleasure slave, a well taken care of pleasure slave, but still scared. This would be easy to play the pity card. 

* * *

Tredicum was a nervous wreck, to say the least. It’d been about two years since the last time she had to break somebody out but they were a labour slave, not a pleasure slave. Which sane person would risk it all for one man? No slave could be that good enough to risk conflict with Tardisia (the majority of the time, the ones who owned pleasure slaves also frequented brothels). She had broken into a ship and took cargo; that was theft of Skaro property. 

But it was also the liberation of a soul. 

It was a good thing she was a madwoman with a large skill set. 

She was risking a fucking war with this cartel and though Tardisia was strong (really, _really_ fucking strong; the tech that the battlements housed was insane) so she wasn’t worried about losing and technically, under her laws, the slave was one of her people the moment the ship plank touched the dock. A war would mean that Gallifrey and thus the High Council would focus on Tardisia, mind you. 

It was obvious the Council were only allowing her to continue her fight against slavery just to keep her occupied but she couldn’t get rid of this little niggle at the back of her neck that something was up. She had started a fire in the Terra Province that had slaves uprising but the Council did nothing. It was so unlike them; the last mining strike had ended with bloodshed, Judoon forces bathing the salt mines with blood. The fact that Tredicum had pretty much usurped their enforced rules had her worried about the inevitable retaliation.

No reaction meant something very big was coming. Something big and heavy and would definitely lead to unnecessary loss of life. God, she should’ve listened to Jack (her private smuggler and informant) when he told her to play nice and lay low. 

“Playing nice was never my thing, was it?” She breathed out and rubbed mindlessly at her wrists. Sometimes, she could still feel the cold steel encasing her, rubbing scars into her pale flesh but did she regret her actions that day even if it cost her so, _so_ much? 

No. 

That day she rose from the flames of Trenzalore Camp and became a mage that would change the world and it wouldn’t end with the freed man in the room opposite from her. 

Grace was talking to him, her healing magic floating in the air (it shifted from shades of green to blue and Tredicum was always captivated by her work). Tredicum knew it was best to not interrupt the Medi Mage whilst she was working so the sorceress leant back in her seat, legs stretched out in front of her. 

She focused on a weird green splodge on the ceiling, thinking about how it got there (the rest of the ceiling was a warm cream so it was a bright contrast and therefore, not natural damage) when Grace slid open the glass door of the man’s room. Tredicum stood up, prepared to make her way to talk to the man when Grace grabbed her arm and pulled her to the side. 

“Is everything alright, Grace?”

“I’m gonna need Ashildr down here,” the older woman responded and started to rub Tredicums upper arm in comfort. The Grand Sorcereress brushed her off and took a step back in caution. Grace never rubbed her arm like that unless it was bad news. 

“Why? You never introduce a therapist straight away. I’m always allowed to welcome them and get them comfortable.” She peered over Grace’s shoulder, looking at the almost comatose man. “What’s wrong?” Tredicum stared at the woman with wide eyes. 

“He’s from Trenzalore,” she grounded out and Tredicum took another step back before heading into the room. “And he’s in no condition to talk- Tredicum!”

The Tech Mage ignored the nurse, closing and locking the door with a flick of her hand, gold tendrils of magic making the metal staticky to the touch. The ex-slave was awake though he looked nearly dead. He was watching her move to a chair with wide-eyed interest. _Like a predator,_ she thought and hated how it sent a thrill down her spine. _No, don’t even_ think _of him like_ that _. He’s traumatised and weak. Having intercourse would be immoral._

“I’m Tredicum, the Grand Sorceress of Tardisia,” she spoke softly and quietly, trying to keep herself in check. “I heard you're from,” she swallowed, preparing to say her next words, her heart hammering in her chest. “I heard you're from the Trenzalore Camp.” Her heart was pounding a mile a minute and she could sympathise with the man’s wince. “I’m sorry for being that up it’s just-“ 

“You just needed to know. I get that,” he murmured and looked away from her. _No, don’t shy away. It’s ok. I know what it’s like._

“What’s your name?” 

“O,” he said roughly. “O-one-seventy. So many of us in the pleasure ring they…they called us by letters and numbers.” 

There was a weighted pause. 

Tredicum remembered her own letters and numbers though she was never a part of _that_ ring. She was a part of the labour rings as her child fingers were nimble enough to replace gears in heavy machinery (it made sense her magic would manifest itself to suit her situation). She was T-thirty-six-L and so fucking lucky to not be part of the pleasure ring like her mother. There were a few of the social elites that liked their…wards…young. 

“I’m…I…” She struggled to find words. “I’m…I’m gonna take care of you now, ok?” O gave a hoarse laugh that left him coughing and wheezing. Tredicum spotted a pitcher of water and glass so she filled a glass and carefully guided the man to drinking. She sat on the bed, his hand very close to hers. 

When he stopped coughing, O began talking again. 

“That’s what they all said. Previous owners.” Tredicum winced. 

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not even interest in sex. Well, I am but I, um, I don’t have the time nor the energy, you know? Looking after a city is really stressful and half the time I don’t even- “ She was rambling again (a nervous trait of hers that had supposedly been beaten out) and noticed how close their hands were. Maybe she could gain his trust in another way? 

Gently she touched his right pinky with her left one, intertwining them. The jolt of electricity going up through her arm and down to her toes made her swoon a bit and a warmth spreading through her lower regions. What was wrong with her? ‘S not like they’re soulmates, it’s near enough impossible for a mage and a Normal to be soulmates (and, she was pretty sure hers died a long time ago, a faded memory of an intense love that only existed in her mind). No, she had to play this safe and make sure this Normal was comfortable and happy. 

“I promise you, I will take care of you and protect you without ulterior motives.” O looked unsure and Tredicum’s heart continued to pound as some very specific words were trapped in her throat. She hadn’t said these before but she had heard the elders say them to one another and she also knew the meanings of them. “I swear on my life, my numbers and letters, you will be cared for and looked after to the best of my abilities.” 

* * *

The Master’s eyes became round in surprise when he fully grasped what the Grand Sorceress just had done. She had given him a promise in the way that only… that only slaves gave to each other. His lips trembled. Could it be? Could it be that Tredicum…? But how? He had read the file on her that the Council had given him and he clearly remembered that not even one letter in that file indicated that she had been a former slave but clearly, she was one (alliances were always formed amongst slaves so a pact of lifetime fealty existed amongst them). How else would she know the slave promise? "You were…” Before he could ask her, a gentle finger on his lips stopped him from asking the woman that burning question.

“Please, don’t.” He nodded in understanding after seeing the sadness and sorrow in her eyes. He filed that information away for later exploration. Time for a change in tactics, it seemed. 

* * *

“Thank you,” he whispered against her finger. “You know, for saving me. Your name gives hope to us.”

Tredicum gave a puzzled look for a second. “I thought the revolts were only in Terran land not in the Papal Province? How-“

Before she could continue her questions, there was a knock on the door and Tredicum quickly looked at who it was. _Great, Ashildr is here._ The sorceress flicked her hand again, this time unlocking and opening the door up for the shrink. She soon turned her attention back to O. 

“O, this is Ashildr. She’s a psychiatrist. Do you know what that is?” 

“No…” 

“Ok,” she started off gently. “She’s a doctor that deals with head stuff.” She tapped the side of her temple. “One of the people who’s gonna care for you, alright? She’s a goodun’.” O squeezed her pinky with his in confirmation and she stood up, making an exit. He didn’t need some strange, weird mage making him uncomfortable (especially when said mage kept having indecent thoughts).

Ashildr caught her gaze, an eyebrow raised. Tredicum sighed before mouthing ‘Trenzalore’ and the young(ish) woman looked panicked for a split second before regaining her cool. She nodded her head in gratitude and Tredicum finally left the room, shutting the door manually. 

Grace tried to stop the woman but Tredicum had gotten good at evading her (spend two decades around the same people and suddenly you know all their tricks). The blonde strode out of the hospital and headed towards her apartment complex. A friendly numbness inside of her was kind enough to keep memories at bay though that didn’t mean it stopped the sadness and pity she felt. 

She tried not to think of anything. Not think about Trenzalore or her mother or how the start of her life was utter shite. Tredicum was grateful for when after she had her first period, her magic came into existence, allowing the Combers to find her in the camp. Still, it took her years to get over her experiences and now, suddenly, everything was bubbling back up. Feelings of oppression and hopelessness and _pain_ were once again alive inside of her. 

It was still raining and she was forever grateful to the heavens for masking her tears. 

* * *

River was already waiting in Tredicum’s small flat (major downgrade from the fucking mansion the Grand Sorceress had).

She knew that she would be needed here as soon as she had split ways with Grace at the hospital. Ghosts and spirits were formidable spies and informants, even better than a certain Captain and the streets of Tardisia were filled to the brim with echoes of the dead. It was a young woman’s echo (possibly Rose Tyler, friend, lover, soulmate and guardian of Novem) that alerted the necromancer to Tredicum’s state of mind and that a visit was required. It’s not like the young mage would be startled; Tredicum would know upon entering her flat, that she had a visitor.

_“Your aura is unique, River. It’s like none I have ever seen before in a human. I will always be able to tell if it’s you. Also, you sure as hell reek of perfume so it’s hard to miss you. What is that? Oud le death?”_

That was Tredicum’s response to River breaking in for the third time (the young mage was startling calm at the sight of an intruder) and she remembered that day very clearly as if it was yesterday. That night they had come to an understanding (Duodecim kept badgering about two hyper-intelligent rats eating one another when his ghost came for a visit) and soon they developed a sort of mother-daughter relationship. 

They both needed it. 

River had lost her only child so long ago and Tredicum only knew her mother as a hazy memory; it was a win-win scenario, their arrangement. 

River heard the bolts of the locks move and then silence. 

“There’s a little something for you in your kitchen and I’m in the living room,” she called out to the younger sorceress. 

_River truly was an enigma_ , thought Tredicum as she contemplated the exact nature of their relationship. She only knew the woman personally as a sort of maternal substitute that occasionally broke into her house and made her tea, hot chocolate or something to eat but there was that other little factor that made River, well, River. 

The necromancer was the only survivor of the great plague of Apalapucia, the city that she once protected. Her people didn’t make it, but in a sick twist of fate, she survived…

* * *

River sat leaning against the city fountain. She gazed at the dead bodies she had covered with sheets, pain and sorrow in her eyes. These were the people that would never receive the proper burial rites, no pyre nor month-long wake. They had been able to burn the first dead bodies, but then there were more and more of them and fuel and time had eventually run out. Many had finally perished in their homes, succumbing to the lack of medical attention, while others had sought the comfort of friends and family in a hospital, only to die slowly and painfully as well. Her people that she had sworn to protect, her city… they were all dead and she would soon follow them.

Her being a necromancer allowed her to stave off the virus and since she was also the Grand Sorceress, she was also given protection through masks and gloves that had eventually ran out a month ago when the High Council deemed Apalapucia a “dead city”. 

A month ago there were still a hundred civilians that weren’t affected or dead. _“Dead city” my arse,_ snarked River to _herself_ _._ Her people couldn’t even use the old mining tunnels that connected the island to Tardisia because that would put the other city at risk. They needed a military grade quarantine sight but…they weren’t given this…

The best educated city of the Gallifreyan Empire was sentenced to death by dying in vomited blood and viral pathogens. 

River knew that this was the work of the High Council. It was revenge on her for her disobedience to welcome slave traders within the city limits of Apalapucia and probably also for all the missing traders that ventured too close. River did have ultimate power in the end, this far out from the Citadel, but all her power could not save her people nor her.

The High Council had come up with a plague, transmitted by air or fluid, sent with a little bow on top via the latest crate of spices from New Earth. The pathogen was tremendously slow to kill. The symptoms started as a normal cold but soon turned into something much worse after the third month of quarantine (though she may be a necromancer, River would never forget the sights of dead lung tissue being coughed up) and as more and more people got infected, her city was placed under quarantine. She could handle it on her own, her people were willing to be kept in their homes but supplies soon started to dwindle and upon the next shipment, the Gallifreyan Army soon came upon them, Mages building strong barriers and a shoot-on-sight order being issued to the Normals. Nobody could go in nor out, including doctors and politicians. 

Back then, when the plague was merely a cold, she got her first hunch that something was fishy. Why would the High Council send their army to put her city under lookdown if it only was a cold? There must’ve been another reason and as soon as the first man coughed up his left lung, black, sticky and disgusting, the blockade was now a clearly preemptive measure to keep their biological weapon at bay. 

Oh, how terribly epic it would be to use it against the very creators. 

Laying down, River’s mind wandered back to the last meeting of the Grand Sorcerers, remembering the childish, nervous and newly appointed protector of Tardisia: Undecim. She had watched him with amusement, while he was fidgeting with something that looked like cue cards. Upon closer inspection, she learnt that the cards were for learning vocabulary (one of her always present souls had told her). He was learning Latinae.

She wouldn’t have minded getting closer to him, especially after she got a whiff of him. The smell of old books and sugared confectionery made her head spin in longing… “RIVER!”

She opened her eyes and even though her vision was blurry, she could make out boyish features and concerned eyes looking at her. Why was he here? How could he be here? 

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t make it here earlier. It seemed like I needed to lose my cool and I may have released my light magic.” _Gods, he was a Light Mage?_ They were pretty bloody dangerous and River, in her fever-induced haze, was surprised he was still alive. “It knocked a good chunk of the soldiers out and the rest didn’t want to get closer to me. It’s just you and me now.” His voice was quiet and gentle. She felt his hand brush a curl behind her ears and she closed her eyes, leaning into his electric touch. 

_Don’t cry._

“I am dying. All you can do is bid me farewell…” she smiled sadly at him when she opened her eyes again, trying to stifle a cough. River could feel how the infection was eating her up from the inside and yet her body was still fighting a losing battle.

“Shush,” Undecim whispered, placing a finger against her bloody lips. “I am here to rescue you and get you to a hospital.” _Was he totally nuts?!_ But before she could complain about his stupidity, surprisingly strong arms lifted her into his arms and soon she was positioned onto his back. _Like how dad used to carry me about,_ thought River. 

“You are bloody insane. Look around you matchstick man…” She coughed up some blood and probably parts of her lungs as well, judging by the feel of it in her mouth. Her left side of her torso burned. “The city is dead, my people gone and I am not far behind. You are risking your life for a stranger.”

River felt a chuckle run through Undecim’s body where she was resting on his back, her arms hanging over his shoulders and his hands holding her securely in place. “Not a stranger. No. Not for me.” He was starting to ramble and she snuggled into his neck as best as she could. “Since our first meeting, I couldn’t forget you, Professor Song. You are a naughty girl you know? Leaving such an impression with me that I can only think and fantasize about you every waking hour.”

She smiled sadly at hearing his words. _You also left a lasting impression with me, my love._ When did he become hers?

“You wanna know what I think? Not that you are in any position to stop me from telling you but I have a strong feeling that we could be soulmates. It would explain everything. Why I can’t get you out of my mind or why I have this strong urge to seduce you into my bed… bugger! I didn’t want to say that out loud. Sorry for sounding so creepy and…”

“Same.” His rambling stopped for a moment while his brain tried to process that one little word murmured by River Song in his back. “If I wasn’t dying… if my people were still alive… if this would have been any other day… and you visiting me… I would have dragged you to my bedroom for at least a week…” It had gotten harder and harder to talk, her throat becoming more parched with every syllable. She felt the end coming. 

“Then let’s make this our promise River. You alright with me calling you River?” He sounded very concerned.

“I am, darling.” Those three little words made him glow from the inside. At least that was the impression River thought she got from him. Her senses were slowly dulling and she couldn’t trust them any longer. 

“You survive and then we will engage in a week of adult shenanigans.” His attitude was refreshingly childish in this landscape of death and River relaxed into his giddy rant. He was so innocent and pure, not even willing to sully his boyish mouth with the words ‘sex’ or ‘fuck’. He truly was her opposite in attitudes and yet equal in passion. It was a shame she’d never get to prove how well-matched they were. She gave a half-hearted sigh, knowing it’d be one of her lasts. “Well, at least a week. I wouldn’t mind it being two or three weeks or even months!” He was excited at the prospect of having finally found his other half that would make him complete but River couldn’t share his idiotic optimism. She would die soon, that was very much guaranteed.

There is a moment just before you die where life seems to slow down. For River, time halted to a stop as she felt her magic pull out of her body and since her soul was tied to her magical core, her essence followed suit. For a brief moment, she pushed against Undecim’s core and soul, caressing it in a final goodbye before the world restarted and she was watching her supposed soulmate carrying her limp and cooling body. River couldn’t look at the hundreds of souls accompanying her, her people floating in her wake. 

Apalapucia was successfully exterminated.

Undecim didn’t notice when River’s body lost the fight to the illness, still being excited about finding her. The souls of her people were watching them sadly as well, having wished for her to find her soulmate sooner.

The soldiers were still somewhat dazed from Undecim’s power flux and those who weren’t tried to keep a safe distance from him and his cargo yet, they still had their weapons trained on him. He was so close to getting River to safety. 

“Grace! I need you here and your healing magic. I need you to cast a protection bubble around the two of us. Contain the infection. I know you’re still in training but I believe in you. You can do this!” he called out to the young Medi Mage/nurse-in-training but she just stared at him, staying on the boat he had commandeered. She was nervous when he had pulled her from her shift and ordered her with him but who else would he bring? There was only one other Medi Mage but he was so old and frail that Grace would eventually take up the mantle of Head Medi Mage of Tardisia (a far better outcome than spending eternity as a lowly nurse at the Citadel). She took a deep breath and pulled on her gloves and a thin, meagre mask, securing half of her braided hair in a top knot. Time for work, however helpless it was. 

Grace approached them hesitantly and stopped two metres away from them. It wasn’t the first time that she got the impression that their new Grand Sorcerer had lost his marbles. Just an hour ago he had confided his plan to her en route to the harbour. 

_“I know I’m new here, as are you Grace, but mark my words, I will go and rescue my soulmate, well potential soulmate and you_ will _help me find a cure for this god's forsaken plague. I know that you have it in you, to find a cure. I just know it. You’re brilliant and have so much potential._

_Please, call the hospital and get two quarantine rooms ready at the hospital, tell no one about what I just told you and if any of those ninny doctors want to know, what you’re doing, you will tell them the truth. You are fulfilling the orders of the Grand Sorcerer. Nothing more, nothing less. And no word to the city council either. I haven’t managed to replace them yet with new people.”_

_“Ok,” started Grace. “But why didn’t you tell me this at the hospital? It would’ve made life easier. I don't even have my medkit. Just some basic, and I mean, basic, PPE.”_

_There was an awkward silence between them, the barely two-hundred-year-old nurse watching the Grand Sorcerer._

_“Didn’t think about that.”_

He lowered River gently from his back to the ground and felt uneasy about the awful quietness from the usually chattery and flirty sorceress. Her face colour was sickly pale and the blood on her lips slowly drying to a crusty black made it look worse. "River," Undecim called her name softly, stroking her cheekbone in affection. 

Grace's heart broke at the sight of the Grand Sorcerer trying to wake up the curly-haired woman. There was no waking up from this sleep that was for sure. The nurse in her knew it and so did her human side. She reasoned that he had to come on his own terms to the understanding that the Grand Sorceress of Apalapucia was gone and not to intervene though her heart broke more when she heard him wail, howling his pain and misery at the sky. He looked like a wild beast, feral and manic in his grief. The two of them weren’t bonded so her death wouldn't kill him physically, it’d just destroy him mentally. 

Tears streamed down his face while he cradled her body as if she was still alive. River was the only one close enough to hear his next murmured words:

"Don't worry, wherever you are, my love, my soulmate. I will follow you." With those words, he kissed her one last time on her lips.

River's ghost watched in sadness and horror Undecim's actions unable to stop him. If he hadn't caught the illness up to this point, he had contracted it now.

'You idiot.' her voice was unheard by the living and she could only watch helplessly as they took him out with a blow dart like an animal. The city council wanted him alive to watch the infection and its course first hand for ‘scientific reasons’ but River knew that this group of council members were deep in the pockets of the High Council. He had been exiled and labelled a liability to justify their actions and since he was now considered an ‘outside source’, Undecim could now be treated to scientific experiments against his consent. 

This was whispered among the ghosts always staying close to her with Martha (an old Head of Medicine) floating in and out of rooms, searching for information. 

Martha was a wonderful Normal and though her husband, Mickey, had passed onto the other side, she stayed watching over her hospital and her children (her son and daughter were both mages and were currently at the Academy so she chose to wait until both were safely back in Tardisia). Martha stayed with River as much as she could but the ex-Head caught wind of some ghouls messing around in the radiation labs and soon she left River drifting around the first basement floor. 

Grace watched with a heavy heart as the former Grand Sorcerer woke up in an isolation room, tied down to the hospital bed with his eyes glazed over as if he was dead. She should have stopped him. Make him see sense that Apalapucia and all its inhabitants were done, dead, decaying, waiting for the burn of a sterilising fire. Her thoughts were interrupted by her being called down to the morgue as the councilmen wanted to 'research' the body of the woman and since she was the medical practitioner who brought her in, the autopsy fell to her shoulders. 

River's ghost sat on the bed besides Undecim, her presence not making a dip on the thin and shitty mattress with her ghostly hand hovering over his lest she wanted to pass right through him. If he only knew that she was here, saddened by his actions. 

"I know that you’re here, River." His confession raised her from her musings. "I can't see you, but I feel you, that you are close to me. You are probably scolding me right now for how stupid I am."

'You bet I am. Soulmates or not, I am very much against you dying for me, you stupid man,' she seethed.

"I am sorry, River if you’re here.” His voice was becoming a bit weaker and she could see the sweat beads starting to gather on his forehead, a fever having started. “But I fell for you the first time I laid eyes on you. I felt alive like never before, vitalised, happy even. All of which has left me. I want to join you, River, please.” River sighed and tried to brush some floppy hair out of his eyes. These Grand Sorcerers of Tardisia were always dramatic with their declarations of love, Be it Tres, Quattour, Novem, Decim and now Undecim.

‘Live on, my love. People need you.’

“I can't bring myself to live who knows how long on my own without you by my side. I’m sorry." He cried again and for a second he felt like her lips were touching his forehead in understanding and forgiveness.

'River! River!' The soul of Rose Tyler had appeared beside her. ‘You better look after your body in the morgue. I swear to the gods, it started doing this funny business with the lighting and stuff when that new nurse pulled you out of cold storage.’ Just on cue, the lights in the room started to flicker ominously. 'And I think I hear some screams coming from down there. Novem is trying to keep everything under control but knowing him...' Rose pointed to the ground under their feet, giving that grin of hers. She always had a peculiar sense of humour and having several people screaming in terror as their subject started doing weird stuff tickled her. Must’ve been a form of irony that made Rose smile; after all, when she was bonded to Novem, the High Council decided to see if they could give a Normal a magical core and had thus created the Bad Wolf of Tardisa but that was a story for another time.

River concentrated on sinking down through the floor. It would be the fastest way to the mortuary in the fourth basement but it did make her feel claustrophobic as she shifted between layers of open space and concrete and rebar. She came to a stop at her destination, taking in the sight before her. From what she remembered overhearing, the nurse by the name of Grace had been called down here by the pathologist. The nurse was here but the pathologist wasn’t (typical) and she was trying to hide behind a flipped table to avoid the lightning shooting in all directions from the dissecting table, the lights flickering on and off.

_Why are you not leaving, young nurse?_ Her question was answered when she looked to the door, seeing the pathologist on the other side having locked it. Novem was there, trying to find a way to manipulate the lock in his ghostly state. He huffed and sighed, turning around to see if Grace was alright. He saw River and gave a grim smile in greeting. The muscles in her body were twitching from the electricity running through it and around, speeding on the reanimation process of her cells. It would also burn through every illness she had housed upon her death.

Cleansing fire indeed.

At first, River thought the process was destroying her body this time around. She had regenerated a few times but never before had the process been this violent or energy-consuming.

The colour and opaqueness were draining from her skin completely, leaving a shell behind that showed her bones, something that had never happened like this in all her previous regenerations: her limbo form. The moment the process was completed her soul was called back into her body rather forcefully.

It was like being shattered into a million pieces before being glued back together, her nerve endings rewriting themselves to accommodate the new state of her soul; she was now a fully-fledged necromancer and it had only taken three-thousand years for it to happen. Fate seemed to be a bitch by not only giving her her soulmate but also finally giving her the opportunity to be the best bloody necromancer south of Londonis. She had waited so long for this...

Painful groans left River’s mouth as she slowly regained control of her body and movement. This was surprisingly the most painful part of her regeneration ability (all necromancers had it, they just needed to die the most gruesome death first and come back under proper conditions).

* * *

River could never imagine how to repay him for sacrificing his own life for hers but luck was on her side that day (Fate was still a bitch though). On the way out of the city, she had died only to come back immune to the disease (it wasn’t the first documented time a necromancer died and came back, something about them being able to regenerate new cells). With some effort from the healers, they had been able to draw a vaccine from her blood and save their Grand Sorcerer. Since that day, it was no longer just a shitty alliance that connected her to Tardisia, but a deep friendship that was passed down from Grand Sorcerer to Grand Sorcerer. It was Tredicum’s turn so maybe it was a reason why River insisted on always being there for her. 

Soft footsteps made River turn around and she saw Tredicum standing still at the doorway, an empty mug in her hands. There were drip stains on the mug's sides as Rivers special hot chocolate had been spilt slightly (it may or may not have a very specific, non-psychotropic fungus in there to lighten the mood but also to attempt to make Tredicum talk about her experienced horrors, which she would never do even under torture). Grace was well-meaning in trying to get the Grand Sorceress to see the shrink, but River doubted that a short living, non-sorceress psychiatrist could even start to grasp the pain and sorrow such a long life brought along.

River rearranged her cloak around her on the unfolded sofa bed which was primed for cuddles (it may be summer but the sea breeze still made the nights cold and borderline uncomfortable). The elder mage knew what Tredicum needed and the majority of the time it was space but after a while of isolating herself, Tredicum would eventually collapse onto the nearest person. River just made sure it was her. 

“I’ve picked out my biggest and softest cloak just for you, little one. It’s all warm and cosy.” She lifted a corner of said garment and without further ado, Tredicum placed her mug on the side table and slipped underneath, snuggling close to the warm body of River Song. It was part of their agreement that River would never ask any questions but always provide a shoulder to cry on (if and only _if_ Tredicum felt in the mood to not repress). It was also part of another promise she had given Duodecim before his final battle.

_“Promise me Melody Pond, that you will always be there for Theta to protect her.”_

_“I promise, old man.”_

_“Thank you.”_

The Grand Sorceress said nothing, did nothing apart from tilting her head away from River and soon the shrooms kicked fully in; Tredicum started to seem drowsy, her eyelids fluttering and her body becoming relaxed beside River. Now was her chance. 

She lent down to Tredicums ear, softly whispering words to her adopted-daughter-sort-of. “When you wake up, you will feel more drowsy than usual and more irritated with the city council than usual. Irritated enough to fire them all on the spot. The time is now for a change and the chance for the younger generation. The plan your mother started all those centuries ago needs to be initiated.” River pressed a kiss to Tredicum’s temple, hating herself a bit for manipulating the young mage. It was necessary though since Tredicum was too much a people pleaser to say anything against her council.

No, this was needed. 

River settled down and soon drifted off into sleep as well. Sleep was what they both needed as well as the comfort the other offered. In a few hours, Tredicum would need to attend another boring council meeting and restart the revolution of lifetimes.

* * *

The local council were, to put it simply, a bunch of old bastards. Yeah, she’d watched them grow and mature and she knew them fairly well but that didn’t mean she _had_ to like them. There were no members of the new generation yet at the council (a new generation came into existence about every hundred years) so all the ideas were fairly old and traditional, the views and values being the same as the ones two-hundred years ago.

The only reason why she didn’t snap at them and kept her calm was one thought and one thought only. She _would_ outlive them and she _would_ get her way one way or another.

_Gods, that’s not like me_ , she thought as she walked into the large council chamber housed at the old Sorcerer’s Mansion. Technically, Tredicum was meant to live here, always on call, but since she spent a large part of her adulthood in a small cluster of farming villages, the large building felt too empty for one lonely mage.

And she would continue to be lonely. Tredicum was pretty sure she had met her soulmate a long time ago, when she was very young and they had died soon thereafter. She couldn’t remember much apart from this intense and never ending love she had felt for this mysterious person. She could always marry somebody else and start a family, not many mages found their counterparts but something about this echo made Tredicum feeling guilty about betraying something so pure.

So, she had turned the mansion into a school for the poor but under one condition: the library, council chambers and living quarters were to remain off limits. The library had been around since Unos, the council chambers were pretty obvious whilst with the living quarters…

It had been twenty years since Duodecim had passed and yet she couldn't bring herself to clean his stuff away. He was her mentor and father figure after she had been suspended by the Academy for dangerous experiments. Missy, his soulmate, had become a chaotic force of nature that taught her what it meant to be a strong woman and she had always been ready to talk to Tredicum about everything and anything. Including on the day when her periods had stopped. Missy had held her and talked to her about how some sorceresses would have their menses and soon they would stop, their magic being too energy consuming to sustain any form of life. The female Blood Mage was one such woman and she seemed to be happy with Duode about never having a brood of her own.

Admittedly, Tredicum had hated her body for a while but living with the two mages had helped her and then Missy got her own protege…

A trip down memory lane was never welcomed by Tredicum and she’d make sure that she put it off for as long as she could.

The noise from the council chambers was deafening and the Tech Mage gave a deep sigh. They were always complaining that Tardisia would miss out in the long run if they didn’t accept trade deals from other cities where slavery was still legal. Some even still bemoaned that Tardisia didn’t have slaves anymore (these were also the men that didn’t like to employ people). Better not tell them that she freed a slave from a Skaro trader ship. Another reason why she detested those meetings were the robes. She had to wear those uncomfortable robes with the far too stiff head and shoulder piece and the fabric was also a pain in the ass. Which idiot thought that having mile-long pieces of fabric was a good idea to walk around in for hours on end? 

She was used to heat but gods, it was insufferable in the robes. The only consolidation was that they were a nice shade of Tardisian blue (the official colour of the city) with trims of a silvery-white instead of the obnoxious red and gold of local council (and the High Council for that fact so maybe it was them that decided the apparel). Technically, she could just rock up in trousers and a vest and nobody could say anything against it but, in a way, it made her feel closer to Duodecim as they were his. It covered her back as well so that was always a positive.

Right now, though, it seemed impossible to find positives.

“Are you done complaining?” Tredicum finally asked after each of them had said their piece of mind and she pinched the bridge of her nose. Gods, she was tired and had a massive headache growing. She should really stop letting River drug her. “Every meeting, you lot are still complaining about the changes that already took place like, twenty years ago. Always complaining that Tardisia needs back slavery and slaves.

“The numbers I got prove all of you wrong. If I have to remind you, since slavery was abolished, the overall city income has risen by thirty percent (the highest of the Terran Province); the health has improved by fifteen percent and the trades are still going strong even without selling humans. Just get over it will you?” The room fell silent and nobody made a move to interrupt her. She did not need a council full of people who contradicted her or condemned her actions that took place long ago. What she and Tardisia needed was fresh blood; the younger generation, the fresher ones, the people who needed their time to shine.

Of course, they were only about twenty to thirty years of age but any changes made now would still affect their lifetime, not the old codgers of the current council. Time for a change. Tredicum continued to speak, pride, anger or confidence making her blood pump and her hands shake.

“This will be the last meeting I will attend with all of you. None of you have anything to add or offer new insights that will affect the current generation, nor your dying one, okay? This is about them, not you.” The room was still silent and Tredicum felt steady in her decision. “Consider your duties as council members hereby revoked. Indefinitely.” She was done with these old men and their constant whining. Perhaps Yaz or Ryan would like to be on the council? Both of them were fresh and young and in separate but key areas of Tardisia (law enforcement and warehouses respectively). 

Tredicum left the speechless room for the hospital, trying to appear confident but now that it was all over and done, she couldn’t believe what she had done.

_That really wasn’t like me. No, don’t think about it, you can’t change the past. Now is the time for the future._ And the future involved a very important man waiting for her. 

If she was lucky, Ashildr had already left and she could hopefully talk some more with ‘O’. Especially since they had to get the legal documents drawn up to make it official that he was a free man now which would be a right pain in the ass since she just fired the council. Ugh, she really shouldn’t do major things when recovering from River’s drugging. At least all it did was give her a headache.

She didn’t stop at home to change into more comfortable clothes. Insead, she went straight to the hospital still in her robes. Grace probably had some spare scrubs in the nurse's lounge room anyway. 

* * *

That Ashildr woman was annoying. He had always hated shrinks and was more than relieved when she finally left for the day. She associated his unwillingness to talk about his past to the supposed trauma he had which served him well (ok, he really didn’t get the chance to plan out a sob story and rehearse it but being a meek man seemed to do the trick).

Finally alone, he allowed his mind to wander, pondering on this forever changing mission. 

The picture the Master was shown was of a small, blonde girl, barely on the cusp of puberty with dirt covering her face. The Doctor he had met, was a woman; a good looking woman that had stirred his interest in more ways than one. He might have a thing for blondes.

Maybe he would toy with her before ending it all. Enjoy her company, gain her trust, enjoy her body and then watch the feelings of betrayal on her face while life slowly drained from her eyes. Wouldn’t be the first time he had wanted to seduce a target to his bed and the Master would enjoy this job to its fullest, not caring one bit about the promise she had given him. His time as a slave was in the past and he was grateful that most of those memories were gone.

He noticed Nurse Grace standing in front of the glass door talking to… 

His mouth suddenly became very dry. 

Grace was talking to Tredicum clad in official mage robes and his libido rose its head. She looked delectable, powerful and sexy all at once in her robes of blue and white (man, he was a sucker for a blonde in charge; definitely could blame his mentors for that). If he hadn’t been bedridden he would have tried to seduce her, right here, right now but no, he _had_ to be full of needles and IV’s and be a _pitiful_ slave.

_Gods, what’s under that robe?!_ , was his thought and he should’ve kicked himself for getting distracted by his primal intrigue. He couldn't see much of her figure and she was covered from her toes to her neck. The robes were in the style of the High Council (perhaps a little less flamboyant) and whilst they did suit her, the Master couldn’t think she was the kind of mage to lay in robes all day. No, she was definitely a trousers person.

The Master cursed quietly under his breath. He should have gotten laid before taking this job. It would have prevented him from having a hard time now. A _very_ hard time, in fact. Fuck, he would probably need to use magic to keep himself in check (his expertise was in bodily manipulation) but she’d probably notice his little tendrils of maroon magic dancing around and then the whole game would be up. So, he sat still, with his hands covering his crotch, as Tredicum poked her head around the door. She smiled and it was infectious in its brightness; the Master grinned back. 

“I’ll be back in a tick. Need to get changed, it’s a bit hot in these.” She lifted up a sleeve and the Master was treated to a beautiful sight of pale, unblemished skin. Her arm was surprisingly muscled (the correct term would be toned but she had a little more strength than that) and he wondered if she was as unblemished all over her body. 

“Alright,” he responded, sounding a bit hoarse and she gave a bright grin again before leaving him alone. 

He admitted to himself that he was a perv and definitely, one-hundred percent, screwed for this mission. 

The Master leaned back into his pillow and turned his head to look out the window. Tardisia seemed to be in its summer; a stark contrast to the frigid winter of the Citadel with its icy blizzards blowing around the glass dome. The window was open and the Master could hear seagulls and taste the salt on the wind. When was the last time he was by the sea? He breathed in the breeze (his ribs still ached from the beatings) and sighed into the room, relaxing unto the bed and momentarily forgetting a certain blonde. Life seemed to be reasonably good here and it was almost a shame he would destroy this golden age of Tardisia. _Almost_. The pay was pretty good.

His hard-on had cooled down significantly when she returned and soon enough, his erection was once again pressing up against his hospital garment. 

He was screwed ten times over! 

The target had been delectable before, but now she looked ready to engage in one of his teenage fantasies (the typical nurse-doing-some-tests-that-turn-out-to-be-far-more-‘in depth’-than-usual). Dressed in rose pink scrubs, the Master could see more of her skin and neck (his jaw aches to latch itself to her jugular) and god fucking damn, were those heels?! He heard the click and strained to look down her legs. 

Yep, she looked ready to give him some so not-so-very-medical medical attention. 

“Stop staring please and yes, I’m wearing heels.” Tredicum pushed him gently down so that he was lying flat on his back and flicked a strand of hair out of her face. She gave a gentle smile before moving back down to the bottom of his bed, checking his medical chart. She tucked her stubborn blonde hair behind her right ear and the Master saw a star spotted earring with a chain, sparking an eerie feeling of having seen it before. It was ridiculous! He’s never met this woman before and the only reason why he knew the piece of jewellery was because it was in a photo he saw.

The thing was though, looking back, there was no jewellery in the picture.

Tredicum gave a hum in approval and placed the chart back, looking up at him with a half-smile, one side of her mouth dimpled.

_Please, please, please just climb on me, I wouldn’t stop you,_ he thought and regretted his deranged thoughts when his hospital gown felt a little tighter. _Or, I can persuade you, pull you closer, kiss you, grab your-_

“Looks like you’ll be out by tomorrow,” Tredicum said, interrupting the Master’s reasonably horny daydream. She placed her hands on the bed rail, shifting her weight from foot to foot. The Master could hear the tapping of her heels and curiosity got the better of him before she could talk anymore.

“Why are you wearing heels? You don’t seem the type.” She huffed out a laugh and rolled her eyes before reaching down and pulling off a shoe. She did the other one and dropped a solid four inches in height, placing the pair of shoes on the bedside table, right in front of him. Oh damn, they really weren’t what he expected from Tredicum. 

They had a rather thin heel and the pattern was interlacing strips of black ribbon; definitely shoes a not-nurse would wear. She sighed and lifted up and down on the balls of her feet, stretching out like a cat. She raised her arm above her head and he caught a glimpse of her sternum. The Master swallowed thickly.

“I’m the same height as most of the local council, so mild intimidation,” Tredicum said before flopping down into a nearby seat. “Also, the robe is really long and I broke my nose twice from tripping over it. Thank the gods for Grace and her magic. I think I’d have a quirky nose if it wasn’t for her.” She gave a dorky grin and ran a finger down the line of her profile, turning her head so that the Master could study her more. “And besides, I didn’t want to get them altered either.”’

The Master gave a small breathy chuckle. Gods, she’s dorky, sexy and he really wouldn’t mind getting to know her more and _oh no._ No, no, no, this could not be happening. His number one rule was in jeopardy: never get attached to the target. 

But he couldn’t stop himself. 

His body was aroused the first _lucid_ time he saw Tredicum and now his thoughts were all centralised around _her_. So, either he was horny (after-effects of the drugs he was given by Rassilon) or pheromones.

Maybe it was something unique to Tredicum that not even the High Council knew about? Wouldn’t be the first time a contractor was wrong about the target. His first guess would have been natural pheromones she was secreting (mages had far more sensitive and acute senses than a Disabled) which would back up his being drugged theory and oh dear gods, that meant she would also be interested in him (judging by the amount she was giving off that was making him this horny). Not to forget, it had been over two years since his last tumble in the sheets so really, anything could set him off into a sexual frenzy. 

Fuck, her lips would look so good wrapped around his-

“I’m gonna forewarn you, this may be a touchy subject so please, stop me from talking if it becomes too much for you.” Tredicum interrupted his thoughts and the Master tried to hide his erection by placing his hands nonchalantly over his lap again.

“As you have already seen, we handle a lot of things different here than anywhere else in the Empire. First of all, the moment that trader ship docked here, you were no longer a slave and to make your new found freedom official, you _will_ become a citizen of Tardisia. Your own person.” The Master just blinked at her, already knowing this information but playing dumb for effect (he may be lusting over her but he still had a job to do). 

“So,” he started and looked down at his lap before looking up through his fringes. “What’s the major difference between being a citizen of Tardisia and being a slave? Because I know for a fact that when you step in Arcadia, that’s it; you’re done for. In the dens straight away even if you’re a citizen,” he said with false anxiety. Alright, maybe it wasn’t completely false (Arcadia always had him on edge and always running from guards on the prowl for mee slaves) but he was also very curious how she would explain this to him. So far he only had experience with slave cities as it was the only type of city in the Empire. 

Tredicum gave a small, reassuring smile before taking a second to think her response through which also gave the Master a chance to study her. Again. 

It was hard not to analyse her; she was just so fucking beautiful. Soft smile lines gave her the persona of permanent joy but there were a few wrinkles where her eyebrows had been furrowed in worry; she may seem happy but there was definitely something going on underneath the facade. Her honey blonde hair had lowlights and highlights that had the Master wanting to card his fingers through and watch just how the colours shifted. Tredicum's hair naturally fell over her eyes and when she was pondering, the Master just wanted to brush the stray locks behind her ear, revealing that beautiful earring again.

_Fuck, when did I become a sap?_

“Being a citizen of Tardisia means you can’t become a slave in my territory.” Her voice was calm though small and quieter. “Even if you don’t have the money to pay for things, you won’t be forced to pay in... other methods. For people who have hit hard times, we have programs in place that will keep them safe.” _Not like this has been needed in the last ten years_ , thought the Master. “If someone doesn’t like you, no slavery. You talking shit about the High Council, no slavery. 

“You get to choose where you want to work and what job and you get paid for it. The pay is equal everywhere unless you’re in the mining or medical industry (mainly because it takes a lot of training and it's risky) and you get to choose what you get to spend your money on after you have paid your rent and for groceries.”

“Paying rent and buying groceries?” 

“Of course. It is your life and you get to choose how you want to live it. Sure, there is still the law, but that is only basic stuff, like no murder, no stealing, no damaging other peoples belongings.” She eagerly answered his questions. “It’s just....” Here came the nasty catch he had been waiting for since this ‘talk’ had started. “For the first few months, you won’t be living on your own. 

“We have had a good experience with having former slaves live together with newly freed ones who are from the same camp or ring to help them adjust.” Well, that sounded quite reasonable so where was her problem? Where was the catch? “So, we will be flatmates for the first few weeks until you have adjusted to normal life.”

He blinked owlishly at her as his brain slowly came to a realisation or at least, what he thought he understood what she just admitted without saying it aloud.

She was also from Trenzalore!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for Kudos and comments!!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mild horror, Hunger Games level, mentions of pregnancy complications and cesareans

“No STDs. Fluids are up to normal levels. His shoulder was dislocated so please, be mindful of him using it too much. Also, his back has a large number of lacerations and needs to be checked every two days.” A nurse had started to list off what Tredicum needed to do to aid O’s recovery and several pamphlets were placed in front of her on the countertop.

She was leaning against the high countertop of the nurse's station, her body weight supported only by one leg, the other tucked behind the ankle. In a way, she looked like one of those weird pink birds that they have up in the Savannah Districts. 

It had been about three days since she told O he would be living with her. Three days since she admitted to the fact that she, the Grand Sorceress of Tardisia, the Doctor, was a part of the Trenzalore slave camp to a complete stranger. _But O isn’t a stranger_ , her mind retorted. _He’s just another scared person from that hell hole. Don’t you remember how you were when you got out? Don’t you remember your recovery at the Academy?_

Yes, of course she did. It’s hard to forget the weeks of vomiting your guts out, the only way you stayed alive was from a near constant drip of fluids and calories in your arm. Then there was the unending disorientation and unbridled rage that followed once the vomiting had stopped. Nobody really liked her. She was the odd one standing out by being a former slave and illiterate at the start. To top it off her year level was very narcissistic.

But there was always this one person, that was always there to hold her hair back when she couldn’t keep her breakfast down and kept her calm when she was fed up with her peers. Tredicum had this fond memory of him sneaking into her room and helping her with her circular Gallifreyan, writing their names and all the places down where they wanted to go once they graduated. The warmth in her chest made Tredicum feel happy and cherished (O made her feel these things too).

For some reason, she couldn’t remember his face or why he just vanished from her life. In fact, according to her memory, he just faded out of existence the same time she got suspended and sent over to Duodecim. Her memory was normally excellent so why couldn’t she remember this boy's face? His name would be even better. They were close, friends even, so why-

“-cum? Tredicum?! Doctor?” Somebody snapped their fingers in front of her face and Tredicum shook herself off and returned back to the real world. She looked at the nurse who just raised an eyebrow. 

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I was asking why O is staying with you? Don’t you usually get them to stay with others from the same camp?”

_Fuck, play it cool, she doesn’t need to know._

“Well, you know where he's from and we don’t have anybody else from the same camp so…” She trailed off, letting the word ‘Trenzalore’ hang in the air. 

“That’s so kind of you, Tredicum. Well then, I’ve got some paperwork for you to fill out and then he’s good to go.” The nurse slid over a bunch of papers and Tredicum picked up a pen, relieved that she wasn’t asked any more questions. 

Nobody but the essential people in her life needed to know about her past so why was she spilling her darkest secrets to a man she only just met? Grace hadn’t known until Tredicum was forced to attend her yearly check up (after three years of skipping) and River was on to Tredicum’s past the moment she swore the oath of the Grand Sorcerers.

River had explained something about the souls of the dead whispering secrets of the living. With O, however, she had immediately spilt her secret. She kept telling herself it was because he was another slave from Trenzalore, ignoring the fact that her magic was calling out for his body and her mind having the deep, ingrained need to tell him everything. 

In fantasyland, Tredicum would say that it was almost as if he was the other half of her soul…

_Nah, that is just stupid_.

* * *

The spirits of Dominae and Duodecim watched their old student filling out the necessary hospital discharge papers. 

“I would have wished for them to meet again under different circumstances,” whispered Dominae and she pressed her body into Duode’s side, seeking his ghostly warmth. They had been waiting for so long for their pupils to reunite, both older mages splitting up to guard their respective charges; Dominae following Koschei’s trail of blood and Duode guiding Theta, the Doctor, Tredicum, or whatever name she used now towards greatness. The two of them had certainly changed due to the grooming and the mind-wiping that the High Council kept inflicting on the two.

Tredicum was easy to get to and the High Council was very aware of this. The Master and his hubris made him arrogant and easy to track, easy to take down and wipe as well. The events unfolding before the two spirits proved one thing: Rassilon was working on his very own agenda without informing the High Council about his actions.

The High Council clearly knew about the connection between the two mages. They would never have assigned the Master to eliminate Tredicum because _he couldn’t kill his other half._ Rassilon didn’t know about how entwined these two mages were and he hadn’t realised he'd reunited his two enemies: the two remaining Timeless Children.

The heirs of House Lungbarrow and House Oakdown were once more back together and the entire ghost realm knew that they would never be split apart again. Duode just wanted them to meet again under better terms, where Koschei wasn’t lying through his teeth and Theta wasn’t denying herself simple pleasures such as being able to trust others. 

She had isolated herself from people, not letting anybody know enough about her. In essence, the cheerful and boisterous Theta had been eliminated and now all that was left was the Doctor, Tredicum, a mage who had well over twenty-thousand people to look after. 

“Me too, Missy. Me too.” He slipped his hand into his soulmate’s and gave a gentle squeeze. 

As they watched the blonde sign papers and converse with the nurse, both spirits were hit with a sense of deja vu of another blonde, centuries ago, signing herself out of the same hospital, babe in her arms. They remembered that day very clearly when they had met Theta’s mother. 

It was the day the Gentleman Assassin carried an unconscious woman into the hospital of Tardisia whilst a storm, the worst in millennia, was raging outside…

* * *

_Stupid mutts!_

Harold Saxon, also known as the Gentleman Assassin to those who survived meeting him, was running for his life and the life of the tiny woman in his arms. She was small compared to him and seemed so petite and fragile with her swollen stomach. For her, it was a blessing whilst for Saxon, it was a hindrance. If it wasn’t for her being so pregnant, they probably would’ve been able to outrun the mutts that were chasing them down. 

His arms ached from carrying the unconscious woman and he cursed again at the abominations created by the High Council to hunt down slaves and uncooperative sorcerers. He was stupid enough to think that Enigma, the only surviving member of the Lungbarrow House, was safe in his cottage. The Assassin had chosen a remote forest region to live in, close enough to civilisation for his bi-yearly supply run whilst being completely isolated from anybody else. He had assured Enigma that she and her unborn child would be safe with him before the woman had drifted off to sleep. 

She only had about a month or two until she gave birth. The child she carried was also a member of the Lungbarrow House, a Timeless Child if she was born a mage. Her mother was a Normal and the chances of a Normal birthing a mage were next to nonexistent. 

Saxon knew for a fact that the child would be a mage and fill out ‘The Timeless Child Clause’. It was an old piece of legislation left by Empress Romanadvoratrelundar herself, just before she was overthrown by Rassilon, stating that any members from the Founding Houses of Gallifrey had the ability to overrule any current leaders and Council members, obtaining complete control over the empire in an instant.

Rumour had it, that the Empress was a seer, leaving this law behind, knowing which unavoidable fate would befall her. The last lifeline to save the empire from the greed of Rassilon.

It was believed that the Founding Houses were exterminated nearly five-hundred-thousand years ago upon the High Council's formation. 

In hindsight, this blood bound, irreversible piece of law was a warning that not all of the houses were dead. If they had been wiped from the face of the earth the magic bound to this law would have died the very second the last Founding House member took their final breath.

In his arms, the Gentleman Assassin held technically two descendants of the Founders; hope for the revolution. He couldn’t afford to lose them. There had been a rumour, a simple whisper on the wind of other survivors, a father and son but the Family and the revolutionaries had learnt a long time ago not to trust hearsay. Enigma and her offspring were real and making sure the baby was safe was the number one priority.

Saxon tried to not think about the fact he had been given full consent to cut the baby out of Enigma if it meant the child would survive. They were so desperate that they, the revolution, the Family of Blood, any believers in the power of the gods and soulmates, had become barbaric, just like the labels Emperor Rassilon and his collection of sorcerer’s forced upon them.

Whilst he attended to the woman, the Assassin had lost all his focus on the outside world and missed the stench of hunting mutts. He should’ve known that they would burst through the front door, his quick thinking was the only thing that kept Enigma and himself alive. A binding spell held the dogs down for about ten minutes and he scooped up the exhausted woman in his arms, emergency satchel on, and made his frantic way to Lucy, his trusted Friesian mare. 

The black horse was already prancing, thunder and wind making her anxious in her stall but she stood still whilst Saxon had slipped on her bridle and saddle (he didn’t need the tack but for Enigma’s safety, he needed it) and in under three minutes, he and Enigma were out of the stall and into the forest.

Wind and rain whipped their hair about, lightning casting shadows of the trees onto the ground. They looked like a vampyre’s claws, pointy and knobbly and any other horse would have spooked, bucking their rider off but Lucy was special. She was a Blood horse, bred from the Family’s wild herd under a full moon, obedient to her master by sheer loyalty to the cult. Danger was always prominent and so their steeds, whether working horses or transport, needed to be able to face anything whilst being smart enough to outwit anybody chasing them. 

“Take us to safety,” he ordered and Lucy’s ears flicked back, listening to his command before facing forward once more. Saxon loosened his grip on the reins, choosing to pull the woman tighter to his chest as his mare took charge. They changed direction, the wind coming from behind them and Saxon had hoped that it was enough to get the mutts confused. Lucy continued at a gallop, only slowing down when the ground became slippery or a slope too harsh in gradient. 

Enigma let out a harsh whimper and the Friesian's ears flicked back again. Time seemed to just continue as they tore up ground to wherever Lucy was taking them, the storm getting gradually worse to the point that Saxon himself felt uneasy. Perhaps it was this forest, the area they were in looked far older than the clearing he had settled in. _It was like the trees were watching, always prepared to strike._

There was a howl in the distance, clear and menacing amongst the rattle of branches and the moan of the wind. 

“Fuck,” he hissed. The cry wasn’t from a native species, the Assassin was sure of that and he felt the horse beneath him quiver. _Yes, we’re all afraid of the mutts._

There was a river, reasonably slow but the storm meant it had flooded its banks. About several metres wide, it was perfect to try and lose their trail. Saxon nudged Lucy into that direction before dismounting and carefully lowering Enigma off the horse. He placed her onto the ground before addressing Lucy. 

“We will cross the river and continue to head in this direction.” He pulled up the stirrups, bringing the leather strap through so that they were secure. “You continue down this side for a little while longer and then cross. Head to wherever we are going and don’t get caught. Don’t worry about us, just try to keep them distracted whilst trying to stay alive.” He grabbed the reins and tied a knot into them, shortening them effectively; Lucy would still be able to move her head without the fear of the leather dragging onto the ground and getting caught in her legs. In an ideal situation, he would take off her tack and leave it in the forest but the mutts were smart; they’d know that horse and rider had split. “Walk with me down to the river.”

Saxon picked up Enigma, who gave another groan and made his way to the embankment, Lucy by his side. The first step into the water was surprising, a sharp cold attacking into his feet and up his spine. With gritted teeth, Saxon waded into the river, hoisting his quarry higher so she wouldn’t be too drenched. The frigid water was now at his waist and his teeth clattered. Soon he was on the other side and looked for Lucy. The mare was standing there, checking to see if he was alright before giving a small rear and taking off at breakneck speed. 

There was another howl, closer this time and the wind changed direction. It was hitting Saxon face first as he trudged through the forest, making his heart jitter some more. _Bollocks, our scent is being practically fed to them._

He heard the mutts before he could sense them, their heavy paws adding to the dark music of the storm.

He could have easily taken down all five predators if he had been on his own and not out of practice. It took an obscene amount of spell work to burn the animals from the inside, decreasing the pH level of their blood but the Gentleman Assassin hadn’t practised blood magic for nearly three hundred years!

He knew that the High Council had created these new monsters just to get rid of Enigma; in all the years he had spent collecting samples and witness accounts, there had never been any tale of a near indestructible hybrids. These were special hunters made to ensure their prey stayed dead.

The Gentleman Assassin had no weapons at all and he couldn’t put Enigma down onto the floor lest that they should need to run or another mutt saw the opportunity to maul her in her unconsciousness.

Had they known that she would turn to him? Was there a spy among them that knew all the plans? That would mean that there was a mole in the highest ranks of the family... but who would betray their own people? 

From the corner of his eye, he noticed a sixth creature breaking through the undergrowth on his left, ready to pounce on him and Enigma. 

_Shit!_

He wouldn’t escape this attack and prepared his body to take the full brunt of the assault just so that the beast would be more concerned with him rather than Enigma. He squeezed his eyes shut and prepared for the worst, thoughts about joining his beloved John in the afterlife easing his mind. 

Painful yelping reached his ears and there, in midair, was one of those blasted creatures suspended in mid-air by tree branches. The wood had impaled his attacker and a small wall of thorny roots encased both him and Enigma, stopping any further attacks. The air had grown still, eerily still, no wind or growls and the old instinct of ‘get up and show them who’s the master’ kicked in. He placed Enigma by the base of a tree and covered her body with his.

His red magic illuminated their wooden cage. There were about six feet of space between the wall and the tree trunk, perfectly encased in a petal shape. The barrier itself seemed pretty stable and as tall as Saxon but he did not want to step any closer. 

The remaining mutts had answered their leader’s call and arrived, pacing and sniffing at the thorns. He could see the tips of their ears flicking back and forth, trying to decipher where he was positioned. Heart pumping so fast, Saxon had to take several deep breaths which was enough for the mutts to pinpoint his position.

One jumped up, its front paws landing on the wall and the wood groaned in time with Saxon’s yelp of alarm. _Oh gods, what have they created?!_ The beast in front of him was an abomination, a cross between a wolf and a lizard. Its jaw was unhinged, very much like a snake with two sharp canines ready to rip his throat out, some fluid dripping down the ivory and onto the wood, making a hissing sound as the acid burned through. Its muzzle was covered in scales and there were two sets of eyes and three sets of ears, the bigger pair being what Saxon saw poking over the top of the barrier. Fuck, they were huge, all black and shiny. 

He had a job to do and he would not let his fear control him. With a determined and yet grim smile, Saxon called on his magical core and let the red swirls centralise around his hands. He would fight to the death if he had to but before a spell could be let loose, there was a harsh yelp and the mutt quickly turned its head, ears pricking at a new threat. Another mutt went down and then another until what was presumably the alpha jumped down, growling and hissing at whoever was causing the damage. 

Concerned for this new ally, Saxon reached out with his blood senses, feeling for any new bodies and species but all he could find was the mutts and their bastard blood. So that meant...it was the trees that were attacking, bringing down mutt after mutt until there were no more sounds. 

The wall fell and Saxon saw the mutilated bodies of the beasts, ten in total. He chose not to look any further, satisfied the threat was over and made his way to his ward. 

“If you are looking for Tardisia, you missed it by half a mile,” an amused, yet cold voice told him from the shadows. He tried to locate the owner (he suspected a woman) but couldn’t find her immediately as her voice seemed to bounce around the clearing. _Gods_ , he thought, _this seems like a place Necro’s would hang out if it wasn’t for the murder trees._ “In the tree above you, Assassin.”

Saxon looked up, his body now crouching over Enigma. _Yep, definitely a necromancer._

He had found a glowing skeleton standing on a branch, struck speechless. She was a necromancer in her limbo form. The skull artfully decorated with a coronet of painted flowers. The coronet looked enamel, bright pink and orange colours, some of the flowers looked like they were flaking off from age. The rest of her skeletal body glowed in a bluish-green as if it was some sort of bioluminescent algae. 

_No, don’t piss it off. Safety first, then you can mock the ghostbuster._

“In this direction, you will find Tardisia as well as a hospital. Ask for Grace Sinclair, she is a Medi Mage. Trust no-one else but her, not yet.” A skeletal finger pointed somewhere and Saxon quickly rummaged around in his satchel and pulled out his compass. There was a flash of lightning (great, the storm was back) and he quickly got a reading. Tardisia laid dead north. _Good girl, Lucy,_ he thought. _The safest place we can go to._

What was worrying was that he couldn’t properly remember the location of the city that was once protected by his dearest love, John, also known as Decim, the tenth Grand Sorcerer. Had he gotten so old that the past was fading from him?

Shit. 

_Lucy_.

“Wait!” Saxon called out as the necromancer made a move to leave.

“What is it? Haven’t I done enough for you already?” _Gods, necros truly were the most narcissistic, pig-headed, self-absorbed, self-centred- Stop it, Harold. You’re just listing off synonyms of ‘self-righteous pricks’,_ thought Saxon. 

“All I ask of you is that could you find my mare? Her name is Lucy and she still might be being hunted by those mutts. Please, I beg off you, I can’t lose her.” 

Lucy had chosen Saxon as her master the same night that he and John were to consummate their bond but Fate dragged his soulmate back to Tardisia where he was killed without a chance of Saxon coming to his rescue. Any Normal would call him crazy if he said that a horse consoled him as he mourned John’s death. _It would be three-hundred years today…_

The necromancer nodded and vanished. Saxon picked up Enigma, carrying her bridal style and started to run in the direction he had been pointed to by the skeleton. 

He had seen many things in his nine-hundred year old life, but something like this? Never before. Usually, necromancers stayed in the shadows, never talking to mortals and completely absorbed in helping lost souls make their way to the Great Light. They were in a state of limbo, neither dead nor alive and only the ghosts that walked the earth understood what the Death Mages felt. They never interfered with the living yet this one did. 

Odd creature. _Shouldn’t have expected anything else from Tardisian lands._ The trees were an interesting twist and now he understood John’s apprehension about shagging in the woods (privacy was hard to come by for a Grand Sorcerer).

Enigma gave a whimper and the Assassin watched her place a protective hand over the swell of her belly, moaning in pain and he groaned from the strain of carrying the woman. A harsh wind picked up once more and strands of her long, platinum blonde hair were lifted up in an almost ethereal manner. She may not be a mage but she sure was a magical creature; who else would go and get themselves pregnant just to fill out a small piece of legislation. Small in its length, but phenomenally big in its meaning for the whole empire.

Enigma had no other known family members and had been guarded her entire life from the moment she was discovered as a descendant of House Lungbarrow. From that day on she had been on the move from one precinct to another until it went downhill and she disappeared off-grid for a whole year, only to come back with an insane plan for the greater good.

* * *

_“If you want a job done properly, do it yourself,” she had argued when she told the group of confidants revolutionaries on how she had planned to fulfil the legislation left by the empress. The Gentleman Assassin and several members of the Family of Blood were present._

_The Family was the only known group of Blood Mages, their order and stronghold being so secretive that nobody outside of the Pahishon District had seen them. A few renegade Mages preferred to work outside of their stronghold, mainly choosing jobs such as assassinations. It was quick and easy money for the ancient cult of warriors. They were a tight-knit group, always finding the “wild children”, Blood Mages that had no Pahishon ancestry, and bringing them in, welcoming and indoctrinating them. This extended to Normals too; you could not have one without the other, the balance must always be maintained. So, when Enigma, one of these adopted Normals, asked for their assistance, they came running._

_There was a small little ritual Enigma had discovered that she wanted to do (once again, it wasn’t exactly small)._

_“That doesn’t mean you should do this,” argued Professor Yana, the guardian of the Blood Mage’s secrets, head mage of the cult and father figure to Enigma. He was still partly cross with her for disappearing without a word only to waltz back in the stronghold of the Family a year later._

_“As far as we know, the Lungbarrows are the only surviving house with me being the last living descendant. I am a Normal. I should, no, I need to do this. I’m twenty-four, I can handle this.” Enigma was a strong woman and Harold admired her strength._

_“We gotta do this, dad, we have to. No matter the risks, I want to do this.” She reached over and clasped Yana’s hand in hers._

_“But a child…this fertility spell.” He looked down to an open book, the pages yellowed with use and age._

_“It’ll guarantee that the child will be a mage. We need the next Lungbarrow to be magical if we want this bloody civil war to end.” She then waited for the next argument, her hands clasped in front of her, left over right and a small little smirk on her lips. Saxon studied her and came to the conclusion that her year long stint in Tardisia had been good. Her cheeks were no longer gaunt, her hair shinier than ever and there was a glint in her eyes; she had found a reason to continue the fight and it wasn’t because of a possible pregnancy._

_“You have nearly no magical core. This could kill you.” The Gentleman Assassin took a sharp breath at this revelation, craning his neck until it hurt to get a better look at the open book. He knew of that spell; it was incredibly dangerous for a Normal as it was designed to ensure the offspring of two mages was magical (sorcerers did worry about the high chance their children could be born a ‘Disabled’ and unable to continue the lineage). It needed a magical core to be built from the ground up in the midst of conception._

_“You’ll need to find some mages who are willing to give up parts of their core. Least of all, somebody who can impregnate you,” the Professor interjected and he was rewarded with a full blown grin from Enigma, one Saxon hadn’t seen in a long time. He couldn’t help but smile back, willing the happy Normal to continue._

_“Did you really think I wouldn’t have asked you all here if I haven’t planned it all out?”_

_From the shadows, one River Song and her soulmate, Undecim, strode out her voice cool yet strangely comforting._

_“Well, it’s good that I know how to bypass needing a core.” In her hands, River held a small little book, its cover a faded blue with a small, pink ribbon hanging out from one of the pages. All the Blood Mages in the room stiffened at the sight of the Necromancer and her Book of Souls. “Combine your spell with mine, Family of Blood, and we can create a new core from an old one.”_

_“And I am willing to be the one to father her child.” The voice of Tardisia’s Grand Sorcerer was oddly calm, as if this had been planned on the long by both mages. Saxon though it was strange that this puppy of a man was wanting to do something so mature. Both River and Undecim stood behind Enigma, the man placing a hand on the junction of Enigma’s neck, his thumb rubbing into the place where a psi point would be on a mage. It was a public display of partnership and adoration and the statement of “Enigma is mine” was confirmed when said Normal reached up to his hand, clasping it with her right. There was a glitter of something and Saxon recognised it as a ring; Terran sapphire set in a silver band. River wore a matching one too and smiled adoringly down at Enigma._

_Ah, Enigma found herself a wife and a husband. They are going to be a chaotic trio, pondered Saxon in mild amusement, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips._

_“Gods, I don’t even want to know the dangers of this,” moaned Yana and even with all his confidence in Enigma, Saxon was worried for the petite woman and whatever plans she had concocted with the familiar Death Mage and her batshit crazy mate._

* * *

The Assassin took a steady path through the tree’s, always checking what was underneath his feet. He had wandered around this forest before and knew the general layout but it kept changing as a path was cleared until finally, he could see his old home in the distance. 

He allowed himself a sigh of relief as the lights of the city came into view, all twinkling yellow amongst the flash and rain. With the storm raging around them, rattling the branches that messed up the Assassins sense, the sight was a beacon of hope. The woman in his arms was still unconscious but she was breathing, only whimpering now and then, her body clenching for brief moments.

The pelting rain had emptied the streets once he reached the outskirts of Tardisia. The city was terrifying in the dark, sharp metal battlements glinting in the lightning and concrete buildings slowly falling into disrepair. The Assassin knew how hard it was to keep Tardisia in shape; after all, he was the soulmate of the tenth Grand Sorcerer and had listened to John ranting about money and budget cuts. He followed the dimly lit signs pointing him towards the hospital, stopping now and then to rest on a street corner, Enigma cradled in his lap. Eventually, they made it safely to the hospital. Shocked gasps came from the nurse on duty as he stepped inside the emergency room.

“We’ve got a pregnant woman in the emergency room!”

The call brought some life to his surroundings and a gurney was pushed towards him to put the petite woman on but held tightly onto her, not willing to let her go. ‘Don’t trust anyone’ said the necromancer and the Assassin would sure as hell remember her warning. He knew very well how hospitals worked even in a more liberal city like Tardisia. 

Money was a necessary and sought after commodity and they’d send anybody to the slave camps if they couldn’t pay. Enigma could be enslaved as well as her unborn child if he didn’t make it clear from the beginning that she wasn’t his slave and that he was able to pay for the medical costs that would certainly pile up. He could smell that the on-duty nurse, as well as the doctor, was working for some of the shadier people of this city, maybe even a member of the local council. The joys of being a Blood Mage were that he was more attuned to bodies than a normal mage. Pheromones and hormones could tell him a lot about somebody and no matter how hard people scrubbed, he could always smell their deceit and lies and _greed._

“I am looking for the Medi Mage Grace Sinclair.” He held the blonde away from the grabbing hands of the doctor and the nurse, pulling her closer to his chest. She whimpered and the Assassin was fearful enough to nearly hand her over but he didn’t trust these people. They felt off to him and if there was one thing he trusted always and everywhere, it was his assassin senses.

“She isn’t on duty tonight but we are capable of taking care of your daughter and grandchild.” He must have looked really old if he was perceived as her father. Well, his clothes didn’t give away who he was and they also looked slightly worn so it was a justified assumption. Maybe he could use this to his advantage? Enigma was widowed so her next living kin was her medical proxy by default whilst she was unconscious. 

He had every right to call for Grace. 

“Then call her, we will wait.” He took the advice of the skeleton woman seriously. She had been scary but honest and she had also saved them. The Assassin could trust her. 

He walked to the waiting area, a trail of water following him till he found a seat and sat down, holding Enigma close on his lap. He started to get worried, that she was still out for the count. Being a Blood Mage had many benefits, but it wouldn’t help him now to get her and himself dry and warm. He had to make sure she didn’t catch a cold. 

Whilst they waited, the Assassin was able to study Enigma properly. He had only seen her in the warm candlelight of his house and had only been on his sofa for less than ten minutes before the mutts had come. She looked different than she had done the last time he had seen her eight months ago. She was gaunt and pale looking, her cheekbones being more prominent than usual and her hair had lost that sheen he had associated with varnished platinum. Her lips were slightly chapped, her eyes sunken and her skin dry. She breathed in short, sharp gasps and when he lifted up her hand, her fingernails were pale and split. 

_Fuck._

Dehydration, malnutrition and anaemia? 

Obviously, this pregnancy had put too much strain on her and combined with the constant movement from safe house to safe house, it was dangerous. 

She was in mourning as well. Both River and Undecim had died shortly after Enigma had conceived, about a month later after the start of this insane plan. Her partners, parents of her baby were gone. The plan had been for her to return back to Tardisia once the Family was certain that there was no chance of miscarriage (there was always a chance but a few runes and spells nullified this risk) but then Undecim had died from mysterious circumstances and Duodedecim took up the role of protector. Missy was a member of the Family, their matriarch almost, and was aware of the plan but the city was in chaos. It wasn’t safe for Enigma then. 

She clearly hadn’t been getting enough nutrition and water in the past and the Assassin was surprised nobody had picked up on it but, when you’re part of a secret, underground organisation, you probably don’t have the time nor the resources for proper, regular meals (unless you were in strongholds such as the cult homelands). Whilst the dehydration and malnutrition were a cause for concern, they weren’t the most threatening conditions. It was the anaemia he was worried about. Sure, it was common for pregnant women to be slightly anaemic but as he performed a small spell, it was apparent the anaemia had been going on for a while now. 

Gods, it was a near miracle that they had the foresight to ensure the pregnancy would be viable the first few months but afterwards, when the spells broke from age, how in Jouchun’s name, did they manage to survive? But it wasn’t all happy celebrations; there was still a threat of early birth and it was likely the premature baby wouldn’t survive the night. 

Enigma was unconscious from either fainting (once again, all three conditions coming into play) or the shock. He wagered fainting but she should’ve woken up by now. 

Something was wrong. Very, very wrong and he wasn’t the type of mage to panic. 

The Assassin hugged the woman tight, mindful of her belly, and started to rock her in worry. _Come on, Grace Sinclair. Where are you?_

A warm wind encased their forms, drying their clothes and warming their bodies. Looking up, he saw the necromancer from the forest but something was different. She still looked like a skeleton, all glowing-bacteria-like, but there was a black outline around her bones that resembled something like a body. 

“Found your horse. She’s stabled in a barn just inside the defence wall. No injuries, just a mild attitude problem.”

“Thanks,” was his halfhearted reply. Saxon was glad that Lucy was safe, it was another weight being lifted but he knew Lucy was smart and could look after herself. Enigma couldn’t. 

“Did you ask for Grace?”

“I did. I was told she isn’t on duty tonight. I also told them to call her and that we would wait,” he recounted. It was hard to tell but he would have bet on it that the skeleton woman just rolled her eyes.

“She will be here soon as well as the Grand Sorcerer of Tardisia. Me being out of my hovel always gets them worried,” she told him mirthlessly though it sounded a bit like she was trying to distract him, get him intrigued. Alright, he was indeed curious though that didn’t mean he’d stop watching Enigma. 

“So I was right in my assumption that you are a necromancer.” They assessed each other, neither breaking eye contact (did she have eyes or was that just another quirk of the necromancer?)

“I am. What surprises me is seeing you here Saxon. Thought you left for good.” He froze at those words. Who was this person that knew his real name? “Last time we saw each other was at my blood wedding to my soulmate you had tried to assassinate.” His lips formed one word: _Melody?_

“Who else?” Her voice had lost some of its coldness. He was astonished that she was still alive and how much the woman he remembered had changed. Yana had been the one to blood bind her and Undecim and the two mages were adopted into the community of Blood Mages (it was a rare treat that one of their own would perform such a ritual on non-Blood Mages). He liked the necromancer and she was kind to him in his moment of need. A hundred years after the death of his soulmate, Decim, he was able to say his final words to the mage thanks to Melody Pond. 

The only reason he had lived through those years was that he only thought about avenging his mate’s poisoning (he was called to urgent business in Tardisia and had to leave the ceremony, gods, if only he had fought for John to stay) and it was actually Melody who helped control his blood lust. It was soon thereafter he gave up using his magic.

Everyone had heard about the death of the eleventh Grand Sorcerer and yet, here stood his soulmate. Necromancers truly were a terrifying breed of mages. He couldn’t have imagined the pain she must have felt when she found out, that her mate died and she had come back to live on. The urge to follow her mate to the beyond must have been strong and yet, she was standing before him in her ghostly form. Maybe it was because of Enigma that she was still hanging around? Yet, Melody hadn’t rushed to help him with her wife, hadn’t fretted or fussed in the words to see if the baby was alright. It was like…it was like she had forgotten Enigma completely. Going by her last words, when they last met, the necromancer seemed to have forgotten a good part of her life.

“Mels…your wife.” He looked down at the Normal before back up at the necromancer. “Your child…do you remember them? Please, tell me you-“

Hasty footsteps came to a sudden stop as three newcomers entered the emergency room, interrupting the conversation. 

“River?!” Three voices exclaimed in astonishment, two female, one male. 

“I am not the one that you should worry about but the pregnant woman in the company of Saxon.” _Right, that answered that question._ _Melody doesn’t remember…but why, how?_ “I’ll see myself into one of the treatment rooms, I know where the glucose solutions are. Be back in an hour or so.” Melody took her leave and with her, the warm air, unwilling to answer more questions from both the party of newcomers and Saxon. 

“Harry? Is that really you?” Saxon looked up and saw his old student, Missy (short for ‘The Mistress’, kinky bitch). She looked older than she had done when she left his tutoring and it did suit her, her person seeming more dignified and classic than she was a few hundred years ago. There was a grumpy, grey haired man behind her, his eyebrows making his whole face look angry who placed a hand on Missy’s shoulder and she leaned back into it subtly. _So, this must be the soulmate._

“Of course,” he retorted. “And I was advised to ask for a Medi Mage. Grace Sinclair.” 

“That’d be me, love.” A kind looking woman stepped forward, the final member of the trio. Her face was tired and sleep dust was still in the corner of her eyes but overall, she was well dressed and she smelt of _comfort_. She stepped forward and Saxon shifted so that she could see Enigma. 

“She’s dehydrated, malnourished, anaemic and possibly in shock. I’m unsure of that last part but I do know she needs immediate help.” Grace’s hands tingled a blue-green and she pressed one palm to Enigma’s forehead and the other to her belly. 

It was a tense minute whilst the nurse did her diagnostics. 

“You’d be right about all of that,” she murmured and shifted so that both hands were on Enigma’s pregnant stomach. “The woman is alright for now but I’m more worried about this little one.” Her hands moved about, settling at different spots on her baby bump. At one point, she lifted up Enigma’s dark blue blouse and Saxon saw several large stretch marks on her once unblemished skin. “It’s good you brought her in now. Baby could be delivered pretty soon thanks to the anaemia. 

“I’m gonna need to bring in a specialist, we may need a c-section. I would rather have this baby in the ICU now rather than lose the two of them with a natural birth. Don’t think either would survive it, in all seriousness.” Nurse Sinclair retracted her hands and pulled the blouse back down before turning towards Missy and her mate. “How high risk is this girl?” 

“Very. The forest was awake tonight and mentioned several mutts when I asked. There’s a small pack of those beasts on the border as well but the trees are keeping them away from the city.” Missy’s mate must’ve been an Elemental or at least, a Flora Mage to be able to communicate with the wild forest. Saxon knew it had been a while since there was any kind of mage who could talk with the plants and have this much leverage and control. Half the time the forest threw out any who dared to try and speak with those ancient guardians of Tardisia. 

“Fuck,” hissed out Missy and the harsh word roused Enigma. She gave a small whine and slowly fluttered her eyes open before wincing and turning her head in Saxon’s chest. He rubbed her arm in sympathy. 

Grace stood up from her crouched position and motioned for Saxon to follow her. He stood up, adjusting his grip on Enigma ever so slightly before walking behind the short nurse. Missy and her mate flanked his sides and sent glares to the doctors and nurses who suddenly swarmed the group. They backed away and let the party walk to a private room in Emergency where Saxon placed the woman onto a bed, shaking his arms and wincing. 

He deflated into a seat by the bed, his extremities aching now that the adrenaline had worn off. Grace clipped a BP monitor to Enigma’s finger and attached a blood pressure cuff, checking the values. Once she was satisfied with the results, she wrote them down onto a clipboard and detached the cuff. 

“I’ll be back in a mo. Need to call up the specialist and grab some saline for her. Maybe get some food or something?” The nurse stroked Enigma’s hair, brushing some of it out of her eyes. “Do you feel like you can eat, love?” 

“Mm, yeah.” She was more lucid now and her voice was rough from disuse. Grace nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her. Missy’s mate was quick to introduce himself to Enigma. 

“My name is Duodecim, I’m the Grand Sorcerer here. Do you know where you are?” She shook her head quickly squeezing her eyes shut, the room probably spinning for her.

“No, I just remember being at Harry’s cottage.” She swallowed, brows furrowing as she tried to remember. 

“Well of course the poor girl won’t know. She’s been half dead for gods know how long!” Interjected Missy, and Saxon was surprised at the brusqueness of her tone. She pulled Duodecim away from the bedside and took his place. “You’re in a hospital and-“ 

“What?” It was like seeing a corpse reanimate (Saxon had seen that once thanks to Melody). Enigma went from subdued and sleepy to alarmed, a hand protectively curled around her stomach and her eyes wide in fright. “I need to leave.” She made a move to swing her legs off the bed but Missy put a firm hand on her shoulder, pushing the younger woman into the bed. 

“If you go out there you _will_ lose your baby and you _will_ die,” Missy said icily. “It’s not safe for you on the streets.” 

“No-one is safe,” countered Enigma. “Especially in a hospital.” 

Saxon had thought Enigma had changed, the pregnancy making her softer and perhaps more co-operative but no, she was just as headstrong as she was eight months ago. 

“Look here, deary-“

“Don’t you dare call me ‘deary’. I swear to the gods-“

“I know who you are and what that child means.”

“You know jack shit about me! I have lost my wife and husband! I won’t lose their child! No matter the cost!” 

Saxon was watching the fight with mild amusement but also concern. Professor Yana and him had been present, when Enigma had presented her solution, introducing her wife and husband along the way as her co-conspirators. Missy had been on a mission back then and couldn’t know about this detail, hence her soulmate wouldn’t know as well...

He snapped back to the present, both women still barring their teeth at each other. Missy and Enigma were surprisingly similar in personality and they were both prone to arguments but as he saw a spike in Enigma’s BP, he caught Duodecim’s eye and jerked his head towards the two women. 

Duodecim wrapped his arms around Missy’s shoulders, pulling the woman back whilst Saxon sat on Enigma’s bed and also pushed her gently back into the bed. 

“Both of you, calm down,” ordered the grey haired man and Missy gave a snarl whilst Enigma huffed and reluctantly relaxed into the pillow supporting her head. 

Her heart rate was still up. 

She still smelt of fear and anxiety.

“Last time I was in a hospital, the doctor on duty, the doctor that I _trusted_ , took one look and tried to pawn me off to his friend as a breeder so excuse me if I want to get out of here.” She gave a pointed look towards Missy before sighing and closing her eyes. “How long will I be here?”

“Hard to tell. They think you’ll need a c-section…” Saxon trailed off, unsure of how she’ll react. 

There was a tense pause, all three mages watching her reaction. She seemed to be processing before she gave a wince and seemed to curl in on herself. 

“Ow, fuck,” Enigma groaned out before panting once she relaxed. She looked down and rubbed her stomach, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. “You’re too early,” she muttered and Saxon’s head snapped up to Missy’s.

The female mage's lilac magic swirled around her and she placed her hands on Enigma’s belly. “I may not be a Medi Mage but I do think you’ve gone into labour.” Enigma gave a choked sob and Duodecim hit the emergency button. 

Grace came sprinting in and she barely spent thirty seconds looking at the group before she knew what was happening. 

“Get Chan here now!” She called out to her colleagues. “And tell the labour ward we’ve got a premature caesarean coming up!” 

The smell of a scared Normal made Saxon’s nose itch. 

* * *

Today was the day. The Master was being discharged, deemed fit and healthy enough to be from the hospital into the care of Tredicum. He was, admittedly, a little sceptical as to how well the Grand Sorceress could handle having a flatmate and he endeavoured to stay out of her way lest he ended up in some weird plot. She seemed the type to seek danger and adventures yet she was tied to Tardisia till her final day alive, a bird trapped in a cage. The spark he’d seen inside of her was begging to be unleashed and the Master almost wanted to let it out. He wanted to watch her _burn._

The contract was forcing him to extinguish Tredicum, though. It was such a pity to destroy such a beautiful inferno waiting to discover the world.

The clothes he was provided with were simple, yet very comfortable: underwear, socks, shoes, jeans and a purple button-down shirt. He liked the colour of his shirt very much and was reminded of the bedroom waiting for him back at the stronghold if he was ever accepted back into the community. 

The Master didn’t regret what he said back then. His rage was, admittedly, uncontrollable and he didn’t know where it came from but Missy wasn’t helping with her form of ‘tutoring’ and he gave up with the Family and their ideals of ‘truth’ and ‘honour’. Why be honourable when the whole fucking continent was always waiting to stab you in the back? 

‘Honour amongst thieves’ was a stupid saying that had no effect in the real world. 

Before he was expelled by the Academy, his favourite colour was purple, deep indigos and violets and the shirt brought a sense of comfort in this unpredictable environment. A long time ago, something changed and when he returned to the stronghold with Missy, blue started to infect his life. Something about the shade he saw Tredicum wearing brought back an echo of a memory, a fragment that sparked remembrance. 

He shook his head, getting rid of the memories and put his arm into the sling provided (that blasted crate really did a number on his shoulder). Then, followed Grace to the hospital entrance where Tredicum was waiting in _that_ blue shade, trousers fluttering down to her mid shins. She looked completely different once more, that little flame of ‘I want out of here’ shining through in the causal magenta and rainbow t-shirt. 

"Perfect timing, O. I just finished signing your discharge papers." His heart gave a flutter and did somersaults at seeing that shy little smile she always wore. 

That gorgeous smile was directed at him and only him, her eyes never leaving his. That little connection he felt was intense in its concentration; it took his breath away for a second. Tredicum looked really happy, her hazel eyes filled with hope and happiness, and when the light caught in them, they shimmered gold.

It seemed like she had been wanting him to come home with her for a while now. _She’s not the only one_ , snarked the Master’s consciousness and he was reminded of all those nights he dreamt of her pale thighs wrapped around his waist or bending her over a kitchen countertop. 

Yep, he was doomed. 

"Is there anything else that I have to keep in mind besides my shoulder and no heavy lifting?" He asked nervously looking from one woman to the other, playing off his butterflies and thoughts.

"Well, in a week from today, your physiotherapy will start for your shoulder and Ashildr wants weekly meetings just to see how you’re settling in,” Grace explained and then her gaze went to Tredicum. "I already sent the dates to your wrist comp. Knowing you, chances are good, you will forget them."

The Master tried to stifle a laugh at seeing the Grand Sorceress, this goddess of a woman, pout like a toddler. It was adorable and he wanted to see her scrunch up her nose more often. 

"I am not that forgetful Grace."

"Of course not, love." The Medi Mage was equally hard trying not to laugh at the pouting blonde. Tredicum gave a grumble before motioning her head back towards the entrance, hands in her trouser pockets in a sudden bout of nervousness. 

"This way O, my flat is only 5 minutes away."

The Master followed Tredicum and was a bit confused. What in the name of the goddess were minutes? Was it a unit to measure time or a distance? He would ask her later when they were alone and he wouldn’t look like an idiot for asking about minutes. _Trust Tardisia of all places to have a unique measurement system._

For now he took his chance to properly look at the city that would be his home until he would eliminate her. He still needed a bloody reason (other than the contract) and he couldn’t see it in the shining glass of the buildings and the litter-free pavements. There seemed to be an abundance of moss and plants hanging off the walls, a beautiful contrast to some of the rusting buildings. 

“I try to keep this place happy, I really do. Thought letting Nature do her thing was the best course of action and it turned out pretty good.” She wasn’t looking at O but at her city, her eyes flicking over memorised signage. There was a heavy sigh from her though. “Besides, Duode…Duode loved plants. For an Elemental, he sure did favour his earth magic. Thought it’d be something he would do if the old codger got more time that is.” The small chuckle she gave sounded hollow and the Master caught a brief glimpse of the _real_ Tredicun; a titled Mage who was struggling with her position. He thought her time as the head of a farming community would have prepared her for struggles but, a farm was different from a city so the struggles would have been different. 

_Something to look into. See if she’s siphoning anything off or if there’s any kind of deliberate negligence._

Tredicum alternated between gazing at her city to watching ‘O’ who in turn, would give her a warm side glance. When their eyes met, she would blush and look away, tucking hair behind her ears and then prattle on about some interesting fact about Tardisia. 

The city was doing a lot better than others if he went only by the state of the citizens and the buildings. What surprised the Master the most was the fact that Tredicum's flat was… well… actually a flat. A flat located above a repair shop or something akin to it since the front was rusted shutters covered in moss and lichen and the swinging sign saying ‘mending metal’ in peeling paint. The hanging vines added to the quaint though disjointed feel of the small shop and what appeared to be three flats above it. Truth be told, this was more fitting for Tredicum than a mansion. 

"Does anyone else live here? This building is massive." He had seen bigger but the awe he infused into his words made Tredicum puff with pride. 

"Nope. The repair shop is mine and so is the building" She led him up the outer stairs to her flat. “You see, the top two floors are a birds nest, literally and we can’t exactly move them since we don’t have any Fauna Mages.” The sorceress pushed open a heavy door and soon they were inside a hallway now, another staircase at the far end leading down to what the Master assumed was the repair shop. Tredicum continued to talk. “They’re a rare type of sea bird and we’re not sure why they’ve decided to nest here, of all places and sure, they create a racket but-“

She put her hand on the door handle and froze. 

The Master looked down and saw that the door was slightly ajar. _Ah, a break-in._

There was a sudden rush of protectiveness flooding the Master, the urge to pull her behind him and to check the flat first becoming strong. Damn the goddess for giving him a dominant soul! 

"We may have an unexpected visitor." Her voice was low and she made her way into the apartment. The surprising heavenly smell of fried eggs, bacon and onions engulfed them and the Master was perplexed as to what was happening. His target was now relaxed, toeing off her boots and flouncing further into her dwellings. The Master had no choice but to follow. 

"River, what are you doing in my flat? Again?"

A honey blond mop of curly hair appeared from what he assumed was the kitchen. 

"I am making sure that you and your guest don't starve. You can't cook for the life of you and I checked your fridge-“ 

“Don’t say I didn’t stock up.”

“Two eggs and some milk hardly classify as dinner for two. I swear, if it isn’t for Clara making extra food, you’d be dead by now.” 

He was truly and utterly perplexed as he watched the two blondes bicker. The similarities were astonishing and he imagined them being mother and daughter. The glares they gave each other were nearly identical and Tredicum was not willing to back down. 

The Master shuffled, catching the eye of this newcomer. 

“Go, wash your hands, you two. There’s a salad and a nice omelette for each of you waiting as well as freshly baked bread. It’s still warm." She turned her back to Tredicum and continued with the omelettes as his target moved past her towards another door. 

The Blood Mage followed suit and made sure to catch a sneaky whiff of River’s scent, trying to see if the almost identical personalities were due to genetics. 

There was the overpowering stench of dark berries and earthy decay whilst mixing in with the aroma of a forest right after a storm and his nose itched when he hit something else. He couldn’t pinpoint it, as if something was blocking it entirely. _Well, that’s suspicious._

As he washed his hands next to Tredicum, he also scented her and was hit with the alluring concoction of charred wood, sage and…also forest…

The walk back to the kitchen confirmed his theory as he double-checked River’s scent. 

_They’re definitely mother and child but why do they act as if they’re not?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with us so far. We know that the last chapter was quite heavy but it looks like it'll be getting softer and fluffier and smuttier now that we've got a third co-writer (who also kinda beta's) joining soon.
> 
> Thank you for your love and support, every comment keeps us going.
> 
> Stay safe, be kind to one another.
> 
> Love, Gremlin
> 
> 💖🌸💖


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late but exams are exams. You can't change them but, we've managed to get this done.
> 
> -Gremlin
> 
> Warnings come this time from me, we've got very horna Master, very horny 13, almost sex and guilt. Lots of guilt. If we missed a warning, please tell us.
> 
> -Dawn

The Master was lying on the sofa bed, staring at the ceiling. The air coming in from the open windows and the balcony was still warm, even three hours after sunset. He couldn’t bring himself to sleep with so many things on his mind. He had been released from the hospital about a month ago to move in with the mystery that was Tredicum, the Grand Sorceress of Tardisia.

She was a wild creature, that was certain. Unique in her hidden strength, ordinary in her dress and appearance, and outstanding in her morals. The Master had lived in her digs long enough to be comfortable and at ease with her presence but her small touches and looks were enough to drive him mad. She would brush against him as she reached for a mug or when she thought he wasn’t looking, Tredicum would stare at him, lip caught between her teeth. To stop the near-constant sinful thoughts, the Master busied himself with trying to find anything to extort or embarrass her but, her innocence and good nature seemed to be genuine.

The other ‘nice’ targets always had something hidden in their closet. 

For example, a target of another Blood Mage, one Madame Kovarian, was deemed the ‘Queen of the Orphans’, taking parentless children out of the mines and slave dens and into her ‘House of Hope’. The people cheered that these street rats were given a safe place and a bright future but when an assassin snuck into her circle of confidants, the Family of Blood soon learned that the orphanage was just a face for experiments. Her death was beautiful, strapped down to her own lab table, cut and spread out in a village square like one of her experiments. The Family were quick to collect the remaining children, some of them becoming a bastardised form of a Blood Mage and welcomed into the cult with open arms. 

The cult of assassins were quick to humiliate but the Master couldn’t find anything on his target. The only odd thing about her was, well,  _ her.  _

Tredicum was a four-hundred-year-old mage who couldn’t cook or clean but was able to put on a full face of makeup in under five minutes and be out of the house for work in ten. She was just an oddity; an oddity without a past, mind you.

The Master gave up on sleeping and sat up, letting the sheet fall off his lap and onto the floor. He gave a stretch, wincing when his shoulder protested in pain before heading to the open balcony. It wasn’t just this tropical heat that made the mage uncomfortable to sleep. He had been told that the physical therapy would take normally up to six weeks. With how long his shoulder had been dislocated, he would be on this fun ride by at least double the time. He didn’t exactly need the full function of his arm but it was good to be prepared for anything. 

With Rassilon, you couldn’t take any chances. 

Stepping out into the night, the Master looked up at the full moon. Being a Blood Mage meant he and his kin were more in tune with the lunar cycle than any other mage types. The siren call of  _ Jouchun  _ (Queen Moon in Pahisho) made his magic pine for release, the urge to light a black candle and pray burning in his blood. His kindred would be performing their rituals across the continent and yet he was stuck playing somebody who couldn't understand the ‘big, complex world of mages’. The Master sighed and leant onto the metal railing, grateful for the coolness of the steel easing both his irritation at not being able to do his usual routine and the heat. If he couldn’t practise his religion in proper form, he might as well try to meditate some of the anxiety away. Perhaps if he got deep enough into his mind, he could perhaps meditate through the whole night.

He knelt down onto the floor, legs spread and head bowed. The Master could still hear the outside world, the sacred Pahishon meditation allowing the assassin to focus on his body whilst remaining alert for attacks. He began the small prayer he said every full moon, saying the words in his mind lest Tredicum becomes suspicious:

_ I surrender myself to you, Jouchun.  _

_ I surrender my fears and my insecurities.  _

_ I release all tensions and doubts to you.  _

_ Great Jouchun, help me to achieve that I desire.  _

_ I open myself to you, old mother.  _

_ I am yours to command, yours to heal and change to suit the world.  _

_ I ask for you to help me in all your radiant beauty.  _

_ Help me to grasp what my heart wants.  _

In the summer breeze, he could hear something whisper. It sounded almost like  _ ‘Theta’ _ . He brushed it off as just him imagining things, willing signs from his old goddess to happen. The Master continued. 

_ Forgive me, Queen Moon, for I have nothing to off you.  _

_ I have no blood nor candle to give you in gratitude.  _

_ Please, help me. I need it.  _

An image of blonde hair floating in the wind appeared in his mind, a hand curled around a swollen belly. 

_ Especially with her.  _

The heat around him shifted from stifling and oppressive to the warmth of a hug. The Master took a deep inhale and gave in to the moon’s light. He shifted until he was sitting on the floor, legs crossed and head bowed. The air began to cool and breathing became so much easier, the humidity dropping down. As he sat still, the Master felt his magic swirl in his blood, wanting to meet its creator in the night. 

His culture believed that magic was gifted upon those by the celestial beings. The Family of Blood were a religious faction of the Pahishon’s and their deity was the moon.

The scholars of their group were still debating if the blood lust was inherited or if it had been a course placed on the mages for a transgression unbeknownst to them. 

The worshippers yearning for blood became nearly unbearable as the moon heightened their sense of touch and smell. The urge to make love and feed almost impossible to bear alone. Some outsiders even confused them with vampyres from time to time which made sense. There was an old superstition that wherever a Blood Mage goes, a vampyre will follow. 

It was, actually, very true. Vampyre’s and also werewolves were considered to be cousins to the Blood Mages, all three sharing the common trait of blood lust and heightened sexuality during the full moon. The difference is how their magic settled; immortality, a magical core and the ability to shapeshift respectively. 

_ Gods, this would’ve been easier if there was at least a werewolf around.  _

This would be the first time the Master would have to deal with this covertly. All of his other jobs allowed him time alone with prostitutes and half of them were alright with blood play as long as he paid extra. There was only one being in his sight that he would even consider enjoying the full moon with but Tredicum was innocent in seemingly everything. The darkness in him wanted to seduce her to his bed (well,  _ sofa _ ), bask in her glowing purity and drink from her greedily. Her blood would make his boil in pleasure, that was what he was sure of. 

He would forget about the contract for as long as he could, spending months with her tethered to his side and bed as they enjoyed one another. 

_ Good gods, this is a first.  _ Not even the most beautiful of his kin nor targets were enough to tempt him so far away from a job (prostitutes did not count, sometimes they were part of the job) and yet, this blonde beauty was getting every second of his attention. 

There was a rustle behind him and the Master snapped his head up, turning around on the spot to look for danger. It was just Tredicum...in shorts and a t-shirt. 

A lot of skin was more bare than usual and the Master could easily see her in the ceremonial robes of his people; her body dripping in the red lace of a sorceress, face veiled and yet her legs naked to the world, ready for the ritual of the night. Yes, he decided, she would look very good among his people. 

It was a right fucking shame that if he was to break the contract between him and Rassilon, it was the death sentence. It didn’t matter that the Family hated the old goat, a contract was a contract. 

_ Though it wasn’t exactly written and a spoken agreement isn’t enough to tether a Mage to a contract. Let’s just hope the bastard doesn’t realise this.  _

“Can’t sleep?” Her voice was rough and strangely alluring to the Master. She stepped forward until she was at the door frame and leant her hip against the wood. Tredicum's pale legs were in full view and the urge to turn around and run his hands or his mouth up and down them was intense. His jaw ached to attach itself to her thighs, sucking deep purple bruises into her flesh as he made his way to the apex of her legs. 

_ Great, my goddess has chosen to inflict me with this lunar urge out of all times.  _ To the cult, sex and blood and magic went hand in hand but the Master was isolated from all three. 

He had never felt more alone than he did there. And, he must’ve been projecting this feeling onto his face as Tredicum pushed herself off the door frame and soon knelt down beside him.

“You’ve been here a month now,” she said softly, her voice becoming one with the wind. Tredicum wasn’t looking at him. Instead, her eyes were fixated on Jouchun as the Master’s mind remained trapped in the cultish fantasies. He shook his head slightly. 

“Yeah, I have.” 

“Sorry I haven’t been around much. It’s been busy, to say the least.” She gave a weak chuckle and dipped her head down. “Start of summer and we’re already planning for winter.” 

The wind became suddenly warmer, more charged and it tousled Tredicum’s hair as if a lover was running their fingers through it. The Master was blatantly staring at her profile now, memorising every little line and freckle that was caught in the moonlight. She was ethereal and captivating. Tredicum sighed and caught his eye, eyebrow raised before turning around so she was facing him. Her hands rested dangerously close to his knees. 

“But you’re here now,” replied the Master deeply, a possessive feeling winding itself up his spine. He could feel how erratic her magic was underneath her and the Master was intrigued with ‘was she affected by Jouchun as well?’ but it wasn’t his main thought. 

No, Tredicum was leaning in closer, her eyes blown wide and mouth parted in a half pant. Part of her hair was sticking to her sweaty forehead and it made her look that more alluring. The Master reached up, surprised by the boldness of his body and cupped her cheek. He expected the Grand Sorceress to back away, tell him he was crossing a strict boundary but she leant into his touch, a gasp caught in her throat. 

“Yeah,” she rasped out. “I’m here now.”

He leant forward and kissed her.

The Master thought the sorceress would refuse (which he would respect) but Tredicum had already wrapped her arms around his neck and hoisted herself into his lap. The position was awkward with the only way to keep Tredicum in place was by placing his hands on her hips, dangerously close to her arse. She didn’t notice though as she swiped her tongue against the Master’s lower lip, asking for entrance. 

The Blood Mage, being completely under the spell of Jouchun, let her take control of the kiss and parted his lips, deepening their embrace. She was surprisingly good at keeping him in place as if she already knew the ticks and quirks of his body. Tredicum threaded her hands into his hair, gripping tight enough it had him squirming and his arousal becoming more obvious. 

They barely breathed, pulling ever so slightly apart so that they could gulp in the warm air and return to their previous activity. Her hips were rocking now, her body undulating against his and the Master was suppressing the urge to pin her to the floor and make her mewl under his touch. He enjoyed having the lithe woman in control. 

Tredicum pulled away and the Master chased her lips but, with the hand in his hair, she pulled his head to the side and started to nibble and bite into his skin. The Master felt his whole body shake in anticipation. 

The neck was highly sensitive for a mage, several psi points that, when bitten or broken, allowed two mages to briefly share a connection, a magical bond. The Master himself had done this once or twice during a ritual, his bed partner needing an increase in his magical core. With Tredicum licking and sucking marks onto these areas, the Master swore he’d orgasm right then and there. He squeezes her hips and pressed her clothes centre against his, making her cry out in pleasure. She was so wet he felt her arousal soaking her shorts and his loose sleeping trousers. 

Tredicum gave a sharp bite to his flesh and the Master sensed blood welling up. She was licking fervently, like a cat, collecting the red fluid and from her hums and grinding, she was also enjoying herself.  _ Yes, she’d fit ever so well amongst the Family.  _

“Gods, fuck yes, Tredicum,” he whined out. He pulled at her waist now, wanting to get their clothes off but his declaration of pleasure awoke Tredicum from her sexual frenzy and as soon as it had started, their passionate embrace soon ended. 

“Shit,” she cursed out shakily and leapt off the Master’s lap, pressing the small of her back against the railing and running a hand through her hair. “Fuck, I’m so, so sorry.”

“Tredicum, wait! It’s-“ before he could finish his sentence, the sorceress fled past him, into the apartment and the Master heard the slamming of what he assumed was her bedroom door. He wanted to follow her, the pressure in his groin making it that much harder to resist but Tredicum needed space, that was very much clear. 

He sighed and leant back, his palms in contact with the cold floor. The bite mark on the side of his neck throbbed and he gingerly touched it before looking at his hand. His blood glistening in the moonlight. She got him proper and the Master felt an unfamiliar tightness in his chest when he realised that Tredicum had claimed him for the whole world to see. Was he proud? Happy? Content even? 

The straining erection he now had didn’t seem to be easing and the Master sighed again before pushing himself up and off the floor. He was one foot into the apartment when he turned around and glanced up at the moon, a smile on his lips. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. He was grateful for the encounter and prayed that it would lead to something more. Tredicum was cautious though friendly with what she said around him but it wasn’t enough for the Blood Mage. The Master needed to talk to her, get to know her and not just because he was on a mission but for the fact her presence illuminated the absence of something in him; missing memories or a person that he could never place but Tredicum was filling that void in his head and heart. 

It felt normal now to head to the bathroom and wank off, he’d done it a few times in the past month but the path meant going past Tredicum’s room. 

When he reached the hallway, he was tempted to knock on the door and ask how she was and perhaps continue their amorous activities but a long moan made it apparent Tredicum did not want to be disturbed.

* * *

_ What the fuck? What the fuck? Fuck fuck fuck FUCK! _

Tredicum had never felt so ashamed in her life. 

She slammed the door behind her and slumped to the floor as her knees buckled. The moon had always created this strong effect within her, her body always shaking with the need to be  _ filled _ . O had been giving off a sweet honey-like scent that enticed her in, drawing her in like a bee to a flower. She had only meant to ask if he was alright but the moment she sat down beside him, her vision went hazy and her blood fevered.

O smelt so good and her teeth yearned to bury themselves into his flesh, unlike anything she had felt before and soon she was biting into the Normal. His blood was warm and soothing, filling part of the ache inside her. 

_ Gods, that’ll mark him.  _

That thought shouldn’t have made her clench on nothing but it did and she gave a long moan. She bit her lip, eyebrows furrowing as she wondered if rubbing one-off would be so bad. Her body was aching, especially her hips and when she spread her legs, her joints sang out in the pleasure of the stretch. 

_ One orgasm wouldn’t hurt?  _ Her conscience could rip her apart tomorrow morning. 

With treacherous resolve, she shucked off her t-shirt and threw it into a corner. Her nipples hardened instantly and when she touched her left breast, her back arched. She’d never been this sensitive before. None of her rougher ‘cycles’ had her so bloody weird and sensitive and just generally  _ off _ . 

She couldn’t wait any longer. 

Tredicum didn’t even bother to take off her shorts and her hand flew straight to her sopping wet core. 

“Oh!” She cried out, her head thumping against the door. She winced but quickly whimpered again as she circled her clit. She wouldn’t last long, her grinding against O made sure of that. Biting into her knuckles, Tredicum tried to stifle herself as pleasure just kept mounting but the pressure in her gut made it impossible to stay silent.

A few more rubs and her toes were curling, body wanting to bear down a cock that wasn’t there and her back arched against the door. She never had an orgasm so intense that for a solid moment, she lost who she was. 

All she heard was the moon which was weird. It was like there was a woman singing in her ear, holding her, keeping her grounded in her post-orgasmic haze. It felt so comforting, so homely and natural. 

_ Strange. I always thought of the moon being a maternal figure.  _

Tredicum didn’t realise she was holding her breath until her lungs started to burn and she let out a long sigh. 

Soon enough, she was back in Tardisia, in her room, all alone. 

She wanted O. She wanted him so bad it hurt. 

A new wave of heat and guilt washed over her. 

_ Gods, what’s happening? _

* * *

Sunlight streamed through her open window and Tredicum gave a groan. Damnit, she forgot to close her blinds and the bloody window. A hot wind had already started to pick up and with a groan, she rolled out of bed. 

When her feet touched the ground and she stood up, her legs wobbled, nearly collapsing when she felt a cramp in her calf. Nevertheless, she made it to the window and forcefully shut it, pulling the curtains together to block out the sun. She yawned and stretched out, realising that her body felt pleasant and relaxed though her calf still spasmed. Why was she so-

_ Oh, yeah, right. _ Admittedly, she briefly forgot about the previous night, how she, in her lunar induced heat (there was no better word for it, she  _ was _ like a cat in heat) almost took advantage of the Normal. He was fragile and innocent and healing. He didn’t need some weird mage climbing on top of him. She should’ve pushed him away when he kissed her! 

Tredicum looked at the door. 

“Buckle up, Doctor. You’ve got to sort out this mess.” She tried to hype herself up before giving up. She felt so guilty about last night, not just for kissing him but also for having six, maybe seven orgasms to a collection of O based fantasies.  _ Stupid moon and stupid hormones and stupid magic.  _

She started to make her bed of a duvet and tons of pillows and picked up her forgotten night clothes, also chucking them onto the bed. Desperately needing a shower, she grabbed a variation of her usual formal attire, a blue skirt and a light cream blouse before quickly deciding to also bring her light outer robe. For formality reasons. She did have a meeting today with the council about winter stockpiles and it wouldn’t be a good scenario if she rocked up smelling of sweat and other bodily fluids, her entire person in a state of disarray. Plus, this would be the fourth meeting with the new council so she still had to make good impressions. 

What was it that Missy said?  _ ‘Always look prepared for the occasion. Dressing good will get you anywhere you need.’ _

Her shower was frigid and she squealed. 

* * *

After taking his problem in hand, not only figuratively but literally, two orgasms later the Master was able to think clearly again. He looked in the bathroom mirror and inspected the bite wound a second time, dipping his finger in his own blood and then licking it away. 

It had felt so good when she had bitten down. Surely an interesting development that he would need to investigate further. Tredicum was moon sensitive in a way that the Master only had seen amongst his people. She must have had some sort of interaction with them in the past. Bonding perhaps? Maybe a spell? Or she could be a soulmate of one? The possibilities, though small in number, had large effects if one little detail was correct. 

He searched the mirror cabinet and found the first aid kit fully stocked. He had an inkling that this was River’s doing just as well as keeping Tredicum stocked up on groceries. 

Taking a cotton swab and the alcohol, he slowly cleaned the bite. It burnt hot upon contact and he couldn’t keep a small hiss in. 

The Master desperately hoped that he wouldn’t dig up enough dirt to stage a proper murder before he could get to know her body better.

Maybe he could hit two birds with one stone? Getting to sleep with her and discovering some insidious secret at the same time sounded like an amazing plan. After all, he had a name and a reputation to uphold. 

The Master stuck a compress over the wound to catch the fresh blood. After this job was done, the Family would have to acknowledge that he was a full-grown assassin, worthy of receiving the rites of adulthood. Hopefully.

He clearly remembered the harsh words of Patriarch Saxon. ‘ _ You can return to the family once you have proven that you aren’t a child. Grow up, Koschei, it’s time to act like an adult.’ _

That had been a good hundred years ago after an argument with his mentor, the Mistress. She had called him a liability in front of the Family and he had shot back with equal fury, claiming that it was because of her lack of teaching skills that he had no control over his magic. 

Gods, how wrong he was. Admittedly, back then he was very pretentious and angry, acting very much like a petulant child but it didn’t mean he deserved to be exiled. He just wanted to go home, to find that missing part of himself. 

The Master tried to calm down. It wouldn’t do any good if his magic went on a rampage because of his anger. He needed his cool to be successful and execute the contract.

Putting everything back in place and leaving the bathroom he stopped for a moment to listen, to see if Tredicum was still awake. The smell coming from beneath her door was heavenly and he quickly left before his body would show another reaction (it would seem like cold showers were going to become regular from now on). He needed to get some sleep, if he wanted to be up before the sorceress to surprise her with some breakfast.

He just knew that she would be full of guilt. He had smelled it as a bitter undertone of her arousal. This would be a very interesting route to explore. Maybe what she had told him at the hospital was only talk without any meaning? She wouldn’t be the first to put up a facade whilst behind closed doors, she was a depraved woman indulging in carnal pleasures at the sake of others. He wouldn’t shame any being for enjoying sex but he would shame those who took advantage of others. 

_ Has this happened to her before? Has she experienced the moon frenzy with someone else? Took advantage of a person? _

Yet, she was quick to feel guilty, self-conscious and apologetic, as if it wasn’t Tredicum that bit into him. 

Now, this was something he could look into. It would make for a nice, juicy, dark secret to reveal and stage her murder around it. 

For the moment, he would wait for his time to come and strike her down.

* * *

Tredicum was still sleeping when the Master got up to take a shower. Under the warm spray of the water, his mind wandered back to the previous night. Her reaction was in a way… strange. She seemed to enjoy herself thoroughly, evidently by the way she had bitten his neck and lapped up his blood. 

The memory still sent shivers of arousal down his spine. 

Turning off the shower he dried himself off, putting on fresh clothes and heading for the kitchen.

He started preparing pancakes, remembering the talk of the very first meal he had taken in this very kitchen with mother and daughter together.

* * *

_ “As I said, don’t let Tredicum near the kitchen if you don’t want to get a trip to the hospital,” River told him, while they enjoyed the salad and the fresh bread she had prepared.  _

_ Tredicum huffed in annoyance. “That has only happened once.” _

_ “Yes, and only because we decided collectively to keep you far away from any kitchen in close proximity from then on. If it was possible, you would burn water.” He chuckled amused watching the two women banter. _

_ A sigh of bliss left his lips as he tasted the first bite of the omelette. The seasoning was on point, the bacon was crisp, yet not burned. This food was not only made with the things he could taste but also, there was no other way to describe it, the food had been prepared with love. Gods, it’s been ages since he’s had such a decent meal, the pubs and inns he usually stayed at had some sort of broth always on hand.  _

_ “I am not sure if I ever had anything in my life that tasted this good,” he confessed, still partly blissed out by the food. It was simple, yet oh so satisfying. _

_ “If you like, O, I can teach you how to cook this and other things.” River offered him. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind cooking for the little one,...” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “We are nearly the same height!” Tredicum complained. _

_ “I am taller by a whole inch.” the older woman shot back and the Master snorted in his water glass in laughter. “As I was saying, I don’t mind cooking for her, but I would feel better to know that there is someone else besides Clara and me that provides her with actual food. And no, Doctor, eating cereal day after day after day is not healthy and doesn’t count.” _

_ River sounded rather stern and the use of Tredicum’s title instead of her Tardisian name made the tech mage flinch a bit.  _

_ “This is serious, little one. You need all your strength and wit if you want to go on outsmarting the High Council.” _

_ “I know, I know.” Tredicum sounded defeated, admitting that River was right, but it also showed that the Grand Sorceress tried to solve her problems and issues on her own, trying to not rely on others. The Master wondered what the story behind this kind of behaviour was. _

_ He would explore this as well, but for the moment he would do his damn best to further gain their trust to be able to explore the city and his target unsupervised. “I would love to learn how to cook, miss…” _

_ “No, don’t bother with calling me ‘Miss’. Just go by my first name River and all is good. I am not one for too many formalities.” _

_ “Alright… River.” He got broad smiles from both women. _

* * *

He sighed softly. The time he had been here didn’t feel like a month at all. He flipped the pancake and watched it sizzle. 

Tardisia was a city with a long history and an even longer list of secrets. Not only were the protectors a puzzle themselves, but it was also the reason why they died. He had heard many rumours about the mysterious deaths the Grand Sorcerers faced. Tredicum’s predecessor for example was an Elemental that died while burning up a whole cybermen army. It was unclear to this day how he managed to make his fire magic this strong, when those Mages were supposed to have a balance between the four elements, never favouring one over the other. 

He must have been desperate. 

That wasn’t the troubling part of history that irked the Master. It was the reason  _ why  _ he had died. Londonis was a while ago and Mondas hasn’t shown one act of aggression since. So, where had that army come from? Who had commanded the Cyberium to create this army?

Tardisia was a dark place and it’s Grand Sorcerer’s seem to add to its aura. Every one of them had a fatal flaw that seemed to be the cause of their destruction. Too trusting, too selfless. He couldn’t work out Tredicum’s flaw but she definitely seemed to have a darker, deeper edge that the others. 

Unbeknown to him someone was watching him from the shadows, reading his thoughts which were easily projected as he thought he was alone and thus didn’t need to worry about hiding his thoughts. 

River was using the powers of Tres to hide among the shadows and watch the two mages living together, well aware of who and what the Master was. However, it was not her place to interfere with the rouse. Not yet.

Upon seeing Theta being reintroduced to Tardisia once more, this time a full-grown adult, River had grown concerned at the sight of her daughter and her different outlook at life. Then there were the traits that Theta had inherited from the spell they had used to conceive her. Blood magic was strong and sometimes, it made itself a part of the core. A Tech Mage shouldn’t feel any hints to a heightened sexual desire around the full moon and yet Theta was experiencing full-blown, Blood Mage cycles. 

River only shadowed in after the full moon, covertly checking on her child but since Koschei had arrived...she needed to up the surveillance. Either one of them could trigger a cascade effect at any moment; joining under the full moon could lead to reconnection of their souls and then the mind blocks the High Council had inflicted on them would shatter in an instant. 

That could kill them. Instantly. 

No, they (Grace, Ashildr, Clara, Jack and River) needed to make sure that they broke the blocks gently, one at a time. But they couldn’t do that, not yet, not until both of them learn that the world isn’t what it seems. Theta was already questioning her past, how and why she had a sexual cycle but Koschei...he was content with his life, nothing appearing out of the ordinary. Yet. 

_ The time will come, when you will find out, Master. I hope you are ready to face your past even if it was accidental. The creation of the Cyberium. It will hurt  _ both  _ of you. _

River felt a gentle nudge through the shadows, Idris calling for her presence in the chamber. The most guarded and best-kept secret was calling for her. A secret only revealed to the current Grand Sorcerer when they were ready to understand and see. Something Tredicum hadn’t managed yet. River left the shadow and her two charges to their awkward scrambling for words and apologies to explain last night to each other. The Heart of Tardisia guarding the Cyberium that was accidentally created by two fledgeling mages when they first consumed their love under the full moon.

* * *

A Cyberium can be best described as a sentient glob of metal. Not fully organic and yet not completely inert. The Mondasians initial purpose for it was just a form of commander, a being that would bridge the gap between army and creator/leader but soon they realised the dancing ball of silver was also good for one other thing: converting. 

Each attack had a bespoke army. Some generals preferred to have a set number of Cybermen to attack with. Others liked to unleash their Cyberiums into the general population, Tech and Blood magic giving it the ability to convert any and all life forms available to metal men. 

For the Titan Archipelago’s, the Mondasian’s cornered and converted the population into a never-ending army that fueled the siege of the western coast. Though it did cost millions of lives, it wasn’t by far the most heinous of things that happened. 

Londonis, after eight centuries, still hadn’t recovered from a Cyberium converting all of the dead into Cybermen. In the space of an hour, the Mercury-like orb had tripled the original army size. With each Londinian falling down from a Cyber weapon, a new silver soldier would rise. In three hours, half of Londonis was burning. 

Five hours in and the city centre and metropolitan areas were occupied. 

Ten hours after the first landing, all slave camps were overrun. 

Half a solar cycle later and the entire Londonis peninsula was under Mondasian control. 

The Cyberium worked effectively without prejudice, seeing each little organism as a potential servant and a number to be added to its army. It didn’t take long for it to recognise its true power over the army. It wasn’t the general that gave the orders, they were only there to prove Mondasian superiority, to claim the war in the name of their country.

It took control of the Londonians and even killed its general and his comrades. Mondas had no choice but to concede to the war as, without any actual Mondasian troops, the battle against Gallifrey was a moot point. 

Gallifrey purged Londonis and ordered all under its empire rule to burn their dead from then on. Soon, the dearly departed became a liability to the empire, another weakness that many would learn how to utilise. 

There was a Cyberium in Tardisia. And it was different from the rest.

Its mentality was that of a child’s and it craved the attention and guidance of its creators. It wasn’t the child’s fault however, it’s creators had been foolish, blind in passion and performed the sacred act of its creation, two magics becoming into one being. Months later, they still were ignorant of the twisted fruit of their love. It lurked beneath the crust of the earth, waiting, hurting for comfort and training…

It was dormant for many a lunar rotation until it felt panic from one of its creators. 

Its blood creator was the one panicking, not knowing what happened to their other half. The Cyberium reached out to feel for its tech creator but felt nothing. An empty area where the connection should’ve been. 

Soon, its blood creator was the same. 

Gone. Empty. Hollow. Alone. 

Curious and confused, the Cyberium decided to go back up to the surface and see if it could find its creators by sight but it had no luck. It checked Tardisian grounds and found nothing. So, it went back to its cave beneath the earth and waited.

It wasn’t sure how long it had been but it felt something from its creators; they were reunited, alive and happy and well. It basked in the sparks of happy feelings it felt from them but it was short-lived. Soon, the familiar pain and the emptiness that would accompany their separation followed as always. 

The Cyberium was a child after all, without care and attention it would act out. Unlike other children, however, it decided to do the one thing it was supposed to do: destroy. It traversed the ground and the tunnels, finding old bodies that hadn’t been dug up and burnt. It converted a forgotten graveyard into its first army and from there converted live beings. 

It chose Tardisia as its first target and was relentless in its attack. Crying and screaming for the love it had been wrongly deprived of, the child began destroying and converting everything it could reach. It was only when an old mage burnt himself up in order to destroy the silver army did the Cyberium back down. 

It slunk down to the ground once more. 

There was another sentient being this time, waiting for its return. Not quite a mortal and yet not organic, like the Cyberium. 

She introduced herself as the Heart of Tardisia, a sort of crystal that was fused with the souls of the Grand Sorcerers. Before the Gallifreyan colonization, she used to be one with all of the chief leaders, taking a corporeal form to assist in the day to day activities. However, once the first Grand Sorcerer was placed into power, the threat of being used for war became all too real. To prevent their abuse the heart went into hiding beneath Tardisia, waiting to see if the Grand Sorcerer would be worthy of their power.

The Heart needed help. She wanted somebody or something to keep her safe. Abound Grand Sorcerer could only do so much when it came to Gallifreyan orders. Orders that forced minors to search for the Heart under the pretence of mining for Tardisian sapphires. The current Sorceress wasn’t ready yet and the Heart enlisted the Cyberium’s skills of tactics and war. 

She was in her corporeal form now, a woman wearing a shredded dress and curls piled upon her head. She picked up the Cyberium and it helped to stay close by changing its form to that of jewellery, silver lace covering her arms, chest and neck. 

The Heart would keep the Cyberium happy. The Heart would pay attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments and Kudos. They mean a lot to all of us.
> 
> We have a little proposition. We have several ideas for memories...and you lot get to choose which memory's or lore we do. Next chapter, we do have one memory that we need for the next chapter but we have the space for another and then there's the next few chapters. So, what're you guys up for? Some Master, Trediucm, our power trio or anybody else. 
> 
> Stay safe, be kind
> 
> -Gremlin
> 
> To be more precise, we had several memory paragraphs so far, like River remembering Undecim carrying her out of her dieing city in chapter two. The memory ends with her coming back in the morgue, and I have quite a few more paragraphs on this one, but Gremlin and me decided to end it there for continuities sake.
> 
> Or the year of absence of Enigma only mentioned in chapter 3. You, dear readers get to vote which of those 2 you would like to read more about. You have this chapter and chapter 5 to vote, in chapter 6 we present the result and chapter 7 will be the voted memory. Or you tell us in the comments.
> 
> On this note, see what Gremlin wrote and also stay healthy.
> 
> -Dawn


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all. Sorry for the *very* late update. Took a break after school and both Dawn and Lime have weird and long ass work times (ew, imagine having a job). Anyway, this is pretty dialogue heavy and alludes to some shit. 
> 
> Warnings: Slavery, non-con (alluded to in passing, one off character), addiction, child labour, horniness towards the end. 
> 
> ~G

With trepidation, Tredicum stepped out of the bedroom, adjusting the pleated, knee-length skirt so that it settled just right. It wasn’t her usual style. The mage had grown used to dungarees and thick denim trousers, courtesy of the farming lifestyle she was adopted into. 

On some of the harder days of governing Tardisia, she yearned for the feel of dirt underneath her fingernails, the sensation of a strong horse underneath her, galloping through golden wheat fields. The ache deep in her bones after working hard in the fields was, in hindsight, much more preferable to the stinging pain in her neck and back from sitting at a desk all day and the near-constant headaches. 

She missed the people too.  _ Her  _ people. When she was ordered to ‘upgrade’ her status, she had to leave loved ones behind as her promotion to was effective immediately. 

They couldn’t leave Tardisia unattended at all and along with several possessions, her lovers were left behind. The people who had gently reintroduced her to love and affection and sex. 

_ Gods _ ,  _ so much sex. Really,  _ really  _ good sex.  _

The thing about her strange libido was that it was very intense and very active. The hundred-and-fifty years she spent watching over Tsuranga was a wild time with her being an equally wild creature. She kept her sex life (or the lack thereof) a secret for a long time and it was only when one of the other Mages in the town, Mabli, a very young nurse, walked into one of Tredicum’s monthly marathons. They had made sweet, gentle love that night and soon, the Grand Sorceress was introduced and accepted into a group of adoring lovers and soulmates. 

They were the only ones outside of the Academy and Sorcerer circles that knew her name, her real name. They were also the only ones she trusted to see her back…all those whip marks and scars. 

_ Astos would be twenty years older now. Eve is probably…gone. Durkas should be living his life. Ronan might be back in the army and blessed Yoss…the kids are probably giving him a run for his money,  _ lamented Tredicum. 

She missed her polycule with all of her heart. And oh, the kids, they’d all be grown up by now (unless some were Mages). None of them were hers, sadly. That gift of childbearing was something she didn’t possess but it didn’t mean she didn’t love the children fully. They were hers as much as they were Yoss’s or Mabli’s (both submissive souls had adopted the local orphans) until she was promoted and cut off from her unique family. 

Then there’s the issue with O, her most recent…dalliance? The word didn’t seem right but conquest and lover was even more inappropriate. Last night was a mistake, a very big mistake that would be near enough impossible to fix. 

She almost had lost control over her lesser urges. It didn’t happen often, that she would lose control, but if it happened… There was a reason she was still called the beast of Trenzalore.

The next occurrence where she had lost control had been at the hospital shortly after she had been hunted down by the mages after her escape from the burning slave camp. She nearly had killed Professor Borusa and his mate. The latter being the trigger that made her lose control and breaking the magic stoppers on her wrists...

* * *

The hospital staff led the Professor down the high priority client ward and to a bolted and sealed door. The air was dry and stale and the sound of a patient letting out a shout echoed a few doors down from the room, causing a shiver to run down the Mage's spine. The lights hummed overhead, creating a sterile and clinical feeling with their cold brightness. The older professor found this less than ideal for somebody as young as the girl he was to see. Actually, in his opinion, this entire ward was inhuman; nobody should be trapped here. 

There were two of the Council Guards in their white and red uniforms positioned outside, taser guns in their thigh holsters and army issued blades tucked into their boots. They stood at attention, placing hands on their weapons, acting as if Professor Borusa, soulmate of their commanding officer, was a threat. Though, in this world, everybody was a threat. Especially in the Citadel.

“Who authorized you to be here?” The left guard asked coldly, his eyes squinting at the Mage. The professor smiled, adjusting his glasses with his gloved hands. He brushed off the hostility, acting nonchalant. 

“I was sent by the High Council and the Sorcerer Academy to evaluate her development and prior academic knowledge base. She will be my student once she is rehabilitated and healed,” he explained with a polite smile as he tried to peek through the window to see her. The guards looked him up and down, sensing something odd about the professor. They couldn’t put a finger on it. Borusa himself knew that it was the calming effect of his magic, a passive ability that was around him as a constant aura.

“Your name?” The right guard asked, checking a datapad. 

“Professor Fuldanquin Borusa.” The guards looked at each other, recognizing the name. It was rare for such a powerful Mage to find their match in the same gender they expressed as. Same-sex pairings had only become more common and publicly accepted in recent years (though the stereotypes were a moot point, in all honesty, you can’t control who your soulmate is). Borusa had wedded and bonded with his dominant soulmate, the same man who would become Governor of the Citadel; running the city operations for Rassilon himself. 

Borusa peered into the hospital room finding another two guards in chairs on either side of the room and the young lady, his newest student, under the covers. 

“Alright sir, you’ve been given permission. Be careful though, she’s feisty for a sub. Gods help the dominant who’ll break her in,” chuckled the guard. Borusa nodded solemnly, bile rising up his throat at the image of a small fourteen year old ‘broken’ like a wild mare, pliant for her soulmate (if she found them) or any adult willing to take advantage of such a naive and innocent soul. 

He was let into the room. It was small and sterile, white floors and padded walls. A bed was pushed into the corner whilst a chair was positioned next to it. A barred window let in the winter sunlight, gently warming the cell though it was still somewhat chilly. He looked at the child he was sent to see, bundled in a blanket and her back pressed into the corner. There was the crackle of static in the air. 

The young girl was small for her age, skeletal and gaunt with a grown-out buzz cut, blonde fluff barely keeping her head warm. She was clean, that was a good sign, but her arms had various bandages and an IV remained in use, feeding in what Borusa assumed was saline. He crossed the room normally, coolly, acting not like a threat, his shoes repetitively clicking against the floor. Children, especially submissive souls, could sense an adult acting different on purpose and he did not want to alienate or frighten her. 

He set down his bag and quietly took off his beige coat, setting it on the back of the bedside chair neatly. He sat down, fixing his posture so that it was straight, and smiled. 

“Hello, young scholar. I am Professor Borusa. I will be your advisor for the academy in the coming weeks,” he told her in a kind voice. The teen looked up from her spot under the covers, and quickly averted her gaze.  _ Ah yes, she had ‘training’. _

“It’s okay...I am not here to harm you, child.” He lowered his voice, hoping he wasn’t coming on too strong to scare her. Though he himself was a submissive, this girl was reactive to anybody, from what he had heard. Traditionally, submissive souls were fine with others of their kind but she…she went feral as soon as they had brought her in. Whether it was the trauma of her magic awakening or a deep distrust of anybody, the professor had no idea. Either way, she would respond aggressively.

“I’m not a child! Or a scholar or whatever the hell you said to me! I’m an ex-slave! I want my fucking pills and I just want to be left alone,” she spat, a snarl on her face. Borusa’s premonitions had been correct. This was not going to be easy no matter how much he pretended otherwise. Feral submissives were a major threat to society, especially when their magic was untamed. Borusa took a deep breath, pushing some of his long, brown hair out of his face, preparing himself for some rather dangerous negotiations. 

“I did not mean to disrespect you, but there is n-”

“Why can’t you stuffy aristocratic bastards just stop messing with me!” She hissed, turning away from him as she began to shake. She groaned into the bedsheets, shivering as she was punished by her own body for leaving the slave camps. Borusa felt his heart hurt for her. 

He had heard various whispers of drugs being used as a control method but the fact that they had used it on this child made him feel sick to his very core. She did not deserve the cruel treatment she had endured. No one did.

_ Gods, curse this empire! _

However, Borusa had a job that he was assigned to do. He needed to assert himself early on in this relationship as a support figure if this was to work and she was to assimilate to life in the Capital.

“Theta Sigma, I understand you are in copious amounts of physical and mental distress. However, I do not tolerate vulgar language being directed towards me. You have no right to direct anger at innocent and uninvolved persons. Now, let’s see what I can do about the pain and symptoms,” he murmured, firmly standing up and taking off his white and gold gloves.

Theta watched the older mage take a deep breath inwards and exhale as his hands glowed gold, a shade very similar to her magic. He whispered something, his eyes still closed and gold smoke began to collect in his palms. He chanted and hummed to himself as the light grew brighter creating a golden glowing cloud. The professor walked and the cloud followed, his eyes glowing golden and piercing as if he was looking into her very soul. 

“Hey, what the fuck do you think your ar-“ Theta yelled shielding her eyes from the light. The mage deposited the cloud on her, the dust coating her body in a warm mist, clinging and absorbing into her skin. 

Theta cried out in fear as the cloud surrounded her body in a warm honeysuckle scented parcel of air. The mage finally let out a sigh and lowered his arms letting the smoke tumble off the bed and disappear, leaving a lingering floral scent in the air. 

It was, admittedly, a cheap and low trick. Borusa was what the Academy called a Seer. His magic mainly focused on the future and was very valuable to some high ranking officials and like any other Seer, his magic also had a subset of powers, his taking on the form of manipulation and shielding. He was a people person after all. 

Tricking her body into a state of calm and pain-free was easy. At the same time, it also made her that little more agreeable to his presence. A form of submission, in a way. It just wasn’t as harsh as pressing into her neck, prodding the group of nerves that would activate the submissive programming embedded into her DNA and soul. 

Theta opened her eyes and found her body to feel soft and smooth, her headache and withdrawal symptoms lessened a great deal. The Professor centred himself once more holding his hands pressed together at his lips letting his thoughts and magic settle before opening his eyes again. 

Theta was scared looking up at him and the guilt of her previous actions finally hit her. He had come to help her, and she had lashed out in response. It was unreasonable, something the old woman that had raised her from when she was six and abandoned by her mother had grown frustrated about. She was very reckless and loud-mouthed, even in a slave den; her attitude was what caused the lacerations on her back, deep and thick whip marks. 

“I-I-I’m sorry I just...I don’t know...I don’t know what’s happening,” she cried, rubbing her eyes. She was scared and tired and frustrated. Something had made her snap as she was fixing a vile piece of a machine (her child fingers made her good for mechanical repairs), she blacked out, feeling heat and static around her. The moment she came to, the camp was in flames, wires dangling and machines disfigured as if somebody had yanked on the metal. 

The guards that had restrained her and further drugged her said that it was she who had destroyed the place, killing nearly two-hundred people in a massive electrical fire. She had a nickname now: the Beast of Trenzalore, a wild creature born from steel, coal and electricity. A murderer. An animal. A bitch who needed a dominant to knock her down a peg or two. 

Theta saw how the guards and soldiers eyed her up and she was grateful that she was out of the camps. No doubt she would’ve been placed into the sex rings as soon as someone had noticed that she had experienced her first moon blood. Now, she was free, ready to start a life away from all these mages and military personnel. 

The professor listened, pulling the chair closer so that he could sit, the feet squeaking against the floor and making Theta wince in her exhaustion. He pulled his gloves back on and held her tiny hands between his.

“I know, child. You have been very brave and though you’re hurt, you’re doing so well. I do not like to raise my voice but I needed you to understand that what you said was not okay for future interactions. However, I forgive you and I know you will do better in the future.” He smiled. Theta sniffled, looking up. He gave off a calming presence, one that was infectious. He broke his gaze at her to pull out a leather notebook and a red pen. He began to write something on it but Theta didn’t even recognize the letters. 

“Now, onto your schooling and where you are academically.” Borusa began clearing his throat switching to a louder, more pedagogical tone. Theta tensed as she knew what would occur. He would realise her lack of education, deem her not worth his time and throw her out onto the street.

_ Actually, being on the streets seems better than whatever will happen next to me. _

“The most important skill for Mages and Free People in this great land and beyond is not magic, casting spells and fighting like you and many others may think. Your magic without a sharp and trained mind can only take you so far in this world. A Mage must be able to read, comprehend, write, and make meaningful commentary on their surroundings, which is where we all must start. Reading one little rune can be the decider between life and death.” The professor finished his speech. Theta listened carefully. This man was odd, reminding her of the elders at the camp who told stories and tales of the past and outside lands yet his face was young, smooth and juvenile. He was confusing but Theta felt soothed by his aura, his being screaming ‘ _ trust me _ ’. The question was though, should she?

“Now, can you read for me the hospital band on your wrist? What do those words say?” Borusa asked kindly. Theta looked at the plastic band tightly bound on her wrist. There had been a man at the slave camp who had tried to teach the others but after the work in the yard, there was barely enough energy for it most days. She had been too focused on surviving to learn and if she did need to learn something, it would be to understand the machinery better. She looked down, pulling at the strong paper and recognising the numbers but that was about it. Anything else looked like the strange circles, lines and curves she had seen on signage at the camp.

“N-no...I’m sorry, I don’t know the things on here,” she said defeatedly, a blush dusting her cheeks in embarrassment. Borusa nodded,  _ this would be challenging,  _ he thought. Most of his students could not only read but write by the time they were brought into the academy. Theta was about twice the age of the entry students with no education whatsoever. He hid his concern with a smile. The last thing this child needed was to feel more alienated. She needed comfort and guidance. 

“It’s alright. You do not need to apologize for never being taught. Can you show me your hospital band? Let’s see what it says,” encouraged the professor, moving closer so he could read. Theta was nervous, still not trusting him fully and held up her wrist, trying to keep a reasonable distance between them. She knew what men did to women if they got too close. 

“Do you mind if I move your hand closer? My old eyes are not what they used to be...” He held out his left hand, a small offering of peace and goodwill. If she accepted, this small little moment could change her life.

Theta gave him her hand trembling slightly, adrenaline in her system preparing to fight back, no matter how hard her inner feelings told her to roll over and submit. He was surprisingly gentle and inspected the writing on her band carefully. 

“Ah, there we are. Let’s read together, shall we?” He placed her wrist down where they could both see, pressing his thumb into a pressure point between her thumb and finger. Theta felt a little less anxious and sunk into the pillows, settling down.

“This is the letter ‘S’ it makes the ‘sss’ sound like in ‘snake’ or ‘sand’. Next is the letter ‘I’. These are tricky.” The Professor wrote down the letters on the notepad. He put the notepad on the bed next to her so she could see.

“They are?” Theta asked, looking down at the wrist band and comparing the symbols printed on the band versus the ones on the notepad. It didn’t seem scary or complicated, it was just writing. Right? The squiggles were friendly in shape, the sounds they made familiar enough that Theta wasn’t too intimidated. 

“Only a little bit. These letters, called vowels, make more than one sound. They can sound like ‘ _ eye _ ’ as in ‘ice’ or ‘i as in the word ‘ _ ignore’ _ . So, we have right now on your wrist ‘s-i’ or ‘sigh’ decoded yes? Are you able to keep going with me? Are you comfortable?” He asked, quickly gaging how his new student was faring. 

Theta found the exercise weird. She had never met a person so concerned with these symbols other than that old man obsessed with trying to teach the young slaves. What did this have to do with learning how to be a mage? Honestly, she just wanted this over and done with, to start her new, free life outside the dirt and grime. No more counting ore and fixing the wiring. She could be clean all the time. That was all she wanted right now. 

She imagined always feeling the warmth on her skin, the sea breeze creating that salty taste she was always told about. What she wanted, was for those stories to become reality.

The mage in front of her coughed and Theta quickly came back to reality.

“Uh...sure...wait, does ‘sure’ start with that letter? It goes ‘sss’ as well.” Theta pointed to the curly letter on the page he had called ‘es’.

“Yes! Very, very good. If I had candy for you I would give it to you like I do my little ones when they learn their letters.” He grinned. This was good.  _ Very good.  _

“What about that one?” Theta asked pointing to the next one, the praise from an elder becoming intoxicating and she wanted more. 

“That is the letter ‘G’ that one makes the ‘gu’ sounds as in ‘glue’ or ‘Gallifreyan Guard’,” Borusa explained, gesturing to the guards in front of the open door and not noticing the disdainful glare Theta sent towards them.

_ Self-righteous assholes,  _ thought Theta.

“So, we have S, I, G. Let's see, the next letter is ‘M’. This one makes the ‘mm’ sound like the word ‘mage’ or the word ‘memory’,” he said, drawing the letter carefully on the notepad. Theta watched and felt herself get lost in the teaching, separating her past from the present for the moment. She didn’t think of the camp or the destruction she had caused or the terrifying Mages who had captured her and the monsters, unlike anything she had seen in the mines or the guards using, chasing her down and biting at her heels. It was just the shapes on the paper and their meaning. Just simple teaching. 

“And lastly we have the letter, the first in the Normal alphabetical order, ‘A’. It makes the ‘ah’ or ‘aye’ sound. It’s just like our friend, the letter ‘I’, it has two sounds. Can you figure out what we’ve spelled?” Borusa asked with a smile looking over his glasses that sat low on his nose so that he could see her face. Theta looked at the letters on the paper eyebrows furrowing in concentration and she bit her lip absentmindedly. If she failed, Borusa would only hit her right?

“S-ig-mah? Sigma...that’s my unit name, right?.” She softly traced the shapes on her wristband. S-I-G-M-A. Those were her letters. 

“Excellent work! You are absolutely right. Ten out of ten!” The Professor beamed happily at her and Theta grinned in response. She looked at the wrist band and could see S’s and A’s all over it. She knew her name by mouth but not in written form. 

“Would you like to learn what the name ‘Theta’ looks like?” Borusa asked, turning to a new page in the notebook. Theta gave a small smile in return, nodding hastily before giving a delighted cry.

“Fuck yeah!”. Borusa frowned and Theta winced automatically, expecting some sort of reprimand and/or beating. 

“A Mage does not curse or use foul language _. _ You must conduct yourself with grace and dignity at  _ all _ times. We are not animals,” instructed Borusa rather sharply, reciting from memory the third of classroom rules he maintained. 

“Oh...sorry…” Theta whispered, head bowed in submission. Borusa didn’t seem to notice as his attention was back to the notebook. 

“Now let’s see what Theta looks like written out.” He wrote it out on the notepad in his neat and disciplined handwriting and smiled. “Now do you recognize any letters from before?”

“Yes, there’s an A at the end.” 

“Yes, so that's one down, four more to go. The first letter here is the letter ‘T’, it makes the ‘t’ sound and is in words like ‘tea’ and ‘toast’,” The Professor said. The young girl decided it was best not to say anything about the fact she didn’t know what either of ‘tea’ and ‘toast’ were. 

“Next is “H”, but first, this is very important,” Borusa instructed, drawing an arrow down and writing in print the T and H next to each other. Theta listened very closely and studying the letters with a little more focus

“When one puts these two letters together. They make a different sound. They make the “th” sound as in your name ‘Theta’. But, when our friend letter H is by themselves they make the “h” sound. Like in the word ‘Helium’” 

_ Gods, when the fuck was this meant to end? _ Theta was tired, grouchy, hungry and cold and she would rather be asleep, pretending to be in a much nicer place (though the cell was a massive upgrade from her mat by the boiler) and forgetting this whole idea for a few hours. 

“So it has two meanings sometimes? How do you know what sound to give it?!” Theta asked, feeling slightly overwhelmed, a headache forming. 

“Practice. Practice is how a mage learns everything. Even magic must be practiced to gain mastery. And achieve the title and degree of an Official Mage,” he said looking at her with a smile and admittedly, Theta was getting real tired of this. 

Couldn’t they, whoever the fuck they were, leave her alone? First, they send fucking mutts that  _ bite  _ after her. Then, they pin her to the ground once the beasts had their pound of flesh, of course, and sedate her. Last, of all, they chuck her into a padded cell, all scrubbed and clean with  _ a gods damned buzz cut.  _ They shaved her fucking head. 

Oh no, what else had they done when she was out? Subconsciously, she placed a hand on her stomach. Theta knew what men did to females, especially when the women were unconscious. She’d seen it first hand, heard it too. Kinda hard not to when the head boss was on top of the other machine girl who slept just a metre away. 

And those guards outside her cell with their comments...

Theta nodded, absentmindedly, feeling more alert than she did earlier. 

“Let’s finish your name and then I can call and have some things brought to you.”.

“Wait, what kind of things...am I in trouble?” She asked cautiously, pressing back into the corner. Damnit, she knew she should’ve paid attention.  _ Why can I never fucking learn?  _ Thought the ex-slave, exhausted by her stupidity. 

The professor was taken aback by that question, judging by the small jump he made. 

“No, Theta, it’s just a few workbooks for your letters and numbers and maybe an extra blanket. Nothing to harm you, I promise.” Theta wasn’t sure but had no choice but to believe him. This professor was strange, that was for sure. The Mages she had met were cold and emotionless, haunting the mines as they perused for new slaves. Whether that be for pleasure or labour or both, Theta couldn’t bring herself to care. As long as they weren’t looking at her, she didn’t bother one moment thinking about the assholes. But, this was involving her now. This mage was for sure aristocratic, they all were in the capital, but was also warm and inviting. 

“We have two more letters. Let’s give it a try, hm? We have T-H- and then the next letter is ‘E’. ‘E’ is a word with two sounds: ‘eee’ as in ‘evening’. And ‘eh’ as in ‘eggs’. Your name has what sound in it?” Borusa asked.

“Eh, as in eggs,” Theta answered confidently though sounding very bored at the same time. 

“Good! And oh? Look at that! We know the letter T already. T-H-E-T-A and then a space between words...S-I-G-M-A. Theta Sigma in Basic,” Professor Borusa repeated, writing the name in capital letters across the page once more. 

“That’s my name.” 

“Yes, they use that so the nurses and doctors can know your name and make sure they have the right patient. Now, why don’t you look at the letters for me, while I make a call for more of my things to be brought to us.” Borusa said with a smile, standing up and leaving his bag on the chair in his place. 

“Okay.” 

* * *

The trees were a glittering dark bronze, their leaves in their final stage before dropping to the ground. The Arcadian forest, or at least what was left of it, was beautiful during this time of the year, just before winter. The leaves would drop and the blood-red grass (caused by a bacteria in the local water table) would be littered with bronze until the leaves turned black and decayed. Bearing in mind it is also in Arcadia, the chances of Borusa seeing them are low so he’ll settle for the little tree’s dotted around the Capitol.

Borusa walked to the halls and outside to the small courtyard where the guards and Theta would be unable to hear him, one of those glittering trees providing some cover in its shadow. 

He used his mobile phone, a device that only had been created recently and was as thick and heavy as a coal brick to call his soulmate. The benefits of having a soulmate in a higher government position was having a private number only he knew to directly reach his mate without going through the office of his secretary. It rang once before his mate answered.

“Fuldanquin, please tell me you are not at the hospital with that half-feral, slave Mage,” Goth pleaded, sounding worried.

“Goth, she’s a child! The poor thing is no threat to anyone! She doesn’t even know how to read,” Borusa growled, something he normally didn’t do when talking to his other half. 

“Fuldanquin Borusa, she is a direct descendant of House Lungbarrow. She could take down this whole state. There’s lots of worry amongst the High Council and the rest of the citadel. I don’t want you getting hurt, I would never forgive myself if something awful happened to you.” He whispered softly to his mate, trying his best to make him see reason. 

“Gothaparduskerialldrapolatkh, she is a severely underdeveloped young girl who has barely the ability to hold a pencil. The High Council has given me direct orders to mentor her progress and take her in as one of my normal apprentices.” Borusa had been firm with his words and took a calming breath, trying his best to make his husband understand what he was trying to achieve. “With time she can be guided into becoming a normal member of society, I’m sure of it.” His voice had become gentle and warm.

The governor sighed softly on the other end of the phone. He struggled to say no to his husband who knew this all too well. “Please be careful...I don’t know what I would do if any harm would fall upon you my love,” Goth murmured gently. Borusa was touched by his mates' worry for him, but also a tad bit annoyed. They had this talk just a few days ago.

“I know. I will be, she’s my student and I have nothing but Rassilon’s great wisdom and my care to pass down,” assured the professor. 

“I believe in you…” Goth sighed, giving his consent to this, in his opinion, batshit crazy idea.

“Now I do have a favour to ask of you. I need some things for Theta. I think that if I can gain her trust and make her understand that I am not an enemy and want her to get better, it may help her emotional healing. 

“I need you to get me a few things from my office. A reading and writing book for first years, the small chalkboard along with the chalk. All those things are in the cabinet labelled first years,” Borusa started to list off what he needed.

“Hold on, hold on...let me write this down.” Goth ground out, frantically searching for a notebook. Borusa smiled at hearing several clunks and swear words. “Okay, what else?” Goth asked after taking notes.

“Hm, maybe a pack of coloured pencils to help her with understanding the grammar easier? Oh, and in my large drawer on the left side of my desk I have a jar of little hard candies as well as a stuffed bear, bring those as well please.” He finished his ‘wish’ list.

“Book, chalk, chalkboard, hard candy, stuffed bear… Borusa, why in the name of Rassilon a stuffed bear? The girl is fourteen.” In his opinion too old for stuffed animals.

Borusa heard the raised eyebrow from the voice of Goth. “Yes she is and taking into account where she comes from, she never owned anything that truly belonged to her and her alone. A life marked by slavery and punishment. Don’t you agree that it would help her tremendously if she had something to hold onto, to not feel alone?” Borusa gently inquired. His heart twinged again and he suddenly felt the urge to return to the small girl, to curl around her and comfort her like the parent she never had. She was alone. 

“Alright, alright. You win, but only this once.” They both knew that it never was this once. If Borusa had set his mind on a task there was next to nothing that would stop him in his conquest. Goth smiled as Borusa sent pleased feelings over their bond.

“Thank you, my helper. I’m going to get back to working with my student now. I’ll let the nurses know that you are coming.” 

“Alright, see you soon. I love you.” Goth expressed in words what he also sent his mate over their bond, their combined cores resonating gentle colours of rose. 

“I love you too,” Borusa replied with a smile, feeling warm in the sun as Goth hung up the phone. He took a deep breath enjoying the flowers and clearing his mind before walking back into Theta’s hospital room. He still ached to hug her. 

She was still looking at the letters, her lips forming them silently, just as he had requested of her. His heart swelled with pride. This was a good sign that she had listened to his request. 

“Good news! Governor Drapola will be stopping by with  _ our _ things in a little bit. He will bring us a book to further help you along with learning how to read, as well as some candies,” The professor announced with a smile, sitting back down in the chair and smoothing his maroon and white robes. Theta smiled hesitantly at hearing this announcement. 

The name Drapola gave her goosebumps. The nasty kind that usually set off her fight or flight reflexes. That name felt awfully familiar.

“You know a Governor? Aren’t they really powerful? In the camps, even the meanest guards and owners were afraid of them.” Theta admitted quietly, being on guard again as the teacher sat down beside her bed again. Borusa laughed and grinned.

“Oh, I’m not afraid of any governors, especially not my dear Gothaparduskerialldrapolatkh.” The professor had a huge grin on his soft face after seeing Theta’s disbelieving look. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to pronounce his full name. That is quite a mouthful even for me.”

“Really? You’re not afraid that he wouldn’t hurt you or be mad for helping me?” Theta asked, very confused about the whole situation. 

“We have nothing to fear from him. He is my soulmate and he would never hurt me or anyone under my care,” he assured her. 

Little did he know that his mate had played a major hand in bringing down Theta as she tried to escape. He was the one to set the mutts on her. He was the reason she had bandages on her legs and salves to stop the bite marks from scarring. Her back, on the other hand, would be marked till the day she died, the skin being already too damaged for the salves to work. 

But Theta didn’t know it was Governor Goth who had apprehended her. Neither did Borusa. 

“Oh...is he nice to you? Have you two been together for a long time?” Theta asked, hugging her knees and looking at Borusa. 

“Yes, we are very nice to each other. We’ve been together since we both were in the academy. We had a tough exam in our foreign policy class so we started studying together. Turns out we were soulmates and a year later we were planning our wedding with our families approval and buying a small apartment together.” There was a pause as if he locked inside a memory. “I don’t think I was even 80 when we got married, though things were much different back then.” Borusa smiled, the memories bringing happy thoughts and feelings to the surface.

Theta wondered if she would ever have a soulmate? Did she want to have a soulmate? She didn’t know. Not yet. The chances were slim if the rumours from the camps held true. Would her mate, if she ever met them, be like the guards? Then she would be better off dead. If her mate would be anything like the professor she was sure they would be able to reach an agreement that was beneficial to both of them. 

She was called a ‘submissive soul’ the moment she was caught, penned, caged. What did that mean for her future? Another life of servitude was not what she wanted. 

No, she wasn’t going to submit. Theta was going to break the rules of whatever new life she had. She was going to decimate them just like she had with Trenzalore. 

Borusa watched Theta, who was deep in her thoughts. He didn’t interrupt her, allowing her to sort through whatever was on her mind. Sometimes the best course of action was to wait patiently.

A knock at the door rose both from their musings, Theta becoming more defensive regardless of Borusa’s spell. 

“Borusa? I have your things, love.” A familiar voice rang from the other side of the door. The voice raised Theta’s hackles. She had heard it before. Even if it was somewhat muted through the closed door, she still remembered it. No amount of drugs could ever make her forget  _ that _ voice, the one calling for the beasts to be released, to forget any other of the slaves and target her. 

She feared for her life again! 

Her body shook in terror.

_ Were there more mutts on the other side of the door? _

_ Would the guards finally put a bullet in my head? _

_ Was Borusa a trap? To lure me into a false sense of security?  _

Borusa didn’t notice the change in Theta’s behaviour, too focused on the closeness of his mate. Getting up from the chair he opened the door, already feeling that his mate had both his hands full with the requested items. He smiled at his love and motioned for the governor to step inside, widening the door. 

Time slowed down for Theta as the door opened and her worst fear stepped into her room. Her fear and anxiety made something dormant inside her snap. From one second to the next, she was hyper-focused on the metal surrounding her. 

“You… lying… BASTARD!” The last word was screamed in hatred while her eyes glowed silver. The metal bed was shaking and deforming, the magic stoppers on her wrist shattering, not able to reign in this onslaught of raw hatred.

The guards aimed their weapons at the beast, ready to take her down for good this time. The projectiles were stopped by the girl and added to her shield of metal made from the bed, the chair and any other metal in the room.

* * *

  
Her mind had been clouded by a red rage back then, but she still remembered very well how Borusa hat threatened his mate to spare her life after learning that Goth had been responsible for capturing her.

Borusa had sworn an oath that he would have their bond revoked officially if he harmed Theta any further. In hindsight, Tredicum should’ve trusted Borusa more than she did; he was willing to destroy such a deep and natural relationship to keep her safe. 

She still doesn’t have many parent figures in her life. There was River but things felt...weird. They were close and yes, she saw the necromancer as a potential mother but there was always this edge to their conversations. Something missing. A redacted piece of dialogue Tredicum needed to know. But she wouldn’t know, not until River gave up on the whole persona of being mysterious. 

A small curse from down the hall roused Tredicum from her memory and with that, she squared her shoulders and shook her hands to get rid of the nervous energy. 

Tredicum was glad that she had left her heels by the front door a few days ago as it meant she could sneak up on her flatmate, no telltale  _ click-clack  _ to announce her presence as she tiptoed to the kitchen. The curtains were closed in the living room as the sun was beaming down on the eastern side of the building and the sorceress was encased in shadows till she was at the kitchen doorway.

O was at the sink, his back facing her. It was a strong back, slightly muscled and his body had filled out after a long time of good food. The water was running and Trediucm stepped forward, announcing her presence.

“Everything alright, O?”

“Holy fuck, Tredicum!” yelled out O. He turned around, hair messy and his hands wet. No, not wet,  _ bleeding.  _

“Oh, gods.” There was a first aid kit in one of the cupboards, as per River’s request, and she quickly retrieved it and a tea towel. “Come on, let's get you cleaned up.” she motioned towards the table.

“It’s fine, it’s just a nick. I’ve had worse,” he reassured and Tredicum couldn’t help but feel a little more guilty about last night. She needed to get a look at the bite wound from last night.

She gave a smile, one of those ‘please do as I say’ smiles and O sighed. 

They sat down, O placing his injured hand on the towel, some blood trickling down onto the fabric. The cut wasn’t, thankfully, deep enough to require stitches and she applied some iodine onto the wound making the Normal hiss at the sting.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I’ve had worse.”

A piece of gauze was put on top and she wrapped a bandage around it as well. Now for the hard part. 

“May I have a look at your neck?” She gave a blush and bit her bottom lip as she looked at O who also was blushing. He shifted and turned his body, offering up his neck. The lighting wasn’t good enough to view the mark and Tredicum stood up. She stood by his side and the air between them felt charged. 

O was looking at her from under his fringe and his look was borderline predatory. Dark and deep that made her soul shiver. Her blush seemed to make her neck and cheeks burn and that ache between her legs returned. She shouldn’t make a big deal out of this but as she placed a hand on his chin, she remembered the night, the moans they both made under the moonlight.

The bruise hadn't bloomed as much as she had hoped for (that’s a bad thought, Doctor) but her teeth had left an imprint. She pushed O’s head to turn away and Tredicum gently touched the taught skin. O hissed and when she pressed a little harder, he gave a whine. It wasn't out of pain though, but out of pleasure. Tredicum pulled back out of shock at possibly starting something but O was quick to reel her back in.

An arm was wrapped around her waist and swiftly pulled her onto his lap. 

“Gods, you’re such a tease,” the Normal said huskily and promptly knotted his hand in her hair and kissed her.

Electricity danced on their lips and she moaned at the sensation. Feeling her magic being in contact with somebody else was always erotic for Tredicum and though the angle of their embrace wasn’t ideal, she rolled her hips. 

O briefly pulled away and it gave both of them a chance to breathe. Their eyes were open and the intensity, the devotion, the  _ lust  _ she saw in O’s eyes took the air she was desperately trying to regain. Was this a mistake? To reignite the flame she should’ve put out last night? 

“O...O, I don’t know if you, me, we, can consent to anything right now.” O tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, fingertips tracing her jawline and down her jugular. 

“What do you mean, love?”

Her blush somehow managed to get more intense.

“I get more...sexually charged during the full moon and it leads to an increase in pheromones that are known to…” she trailed off, embarrassed and unsure how to explain.

“And?” O gave a smirk, a very sinful smirk as if he already knew what happened to her. He was teasing her, torturing her almost and gods, it was getting Tredicum really heated.

“And it's been known to  _ sway _ people to sleep with me,” murmured the Mage. O’s smirk became a smile and soon he was chuckling. “What?” 

“Oh, darling Tredicum.” He cupped her cheeks, his thumb grazing her bottom lip. Automatically, she poked her tongue and soon, she started to suck on O’s thumb. He groaned and she could feel his member harden against the back of her thigh. She closed her eyes, giving into the sensation of sucking part of O even if it wasn’t exactly what she wanted in her mouth. “I’ve been meaning to seduce you for a while and here you are, flirting and corralling me into your bed without even knowing it.”

She stopped her assault on O’s thumb and pulled back, releasing him with a pop. 

“What do you mean you’ve been wanting to seduce me? For how long?” 

“Since you came into my hospital room. Long before your moon horniness.” He pressed a teasing kiss to her lips. “Maybe I should put a few more words into my explanation and I hope it will make sense. Since the moment I was fully lucid again, seeing you, properly seeing you for the first time I felt something awaken in me. How do I describe it?” He was silent for a few seconds where Tredicum could hear her own heartbeat overly loud.

“It was like, knowing, that we would fit, that we belong with each other, if this makes any sense at all.”

She remembered a discussion she had a long time. 

_ “Missy, how did you know that you and Duode were soulmates?” _

_ “We were horny for each other.” Theta blushed a deep shade of red upon this answer. _

_ “That’s it? You are just plain horny for the other?” _

_ “Basically and also this deep rooted feeling of belonging, of knowing that we fit, that we complete each other.” _

“It makes perfect sense.” She didn’t want to put too much hope or joy into her voice. Didn’t want to start thinking about, that maybe, just maybe they could be meant for each other. She didn’t dare think soulmates.

“Now,” he purred against her as a hand was placed on her knee. “You still in the mood?” 

_ Alright, consent given.  _

“Gods, yes.” Tredicum squealed when she was picked up and the soft thump of the first aid kit and tea towel being brushed off the table as she was placed on the table. Automatically, she leaned back until she laid fully on the old piece of wood, dragging O down with a tight grip on his T-shirt and opening her legs. He slotted in perfectly, as if her body was made for him and his hardness touched where she was wet and aching. 

“Shit, Tredicum,” moaned out O as he placed kisses down her neck, teeth grazing those sensitive spots. If he bit down too hard, he’d claim her as his till he died. Not that it’s possible for a normal, mind you, but the notion of being claimed was enticing and delicious. So delicious she ground her hips against his and placed one foot onto the edge of the table, the arch taking most of the weight. 

The Normal dragged his palm up her thigh, pulling the other leg up onto the table. He didn’t stop his assault on her neck and soon he had Tredicum mewling. His touch was burning and the desire flooding her system was intense. 

“Please, O, touch me,” she begged, a slight whimper to her voice. She was given a light growl in response and the hand resting on the inside of her knee moved down, pushing the flowing skirt along with it. She was pretty much bare to him now, the satin material bunched at her hips and her ruined knickers being the only thing keeping her modesty. 

_ Modesty. What a weird word in this situation _ , she wondered deliriously but soon she could barely form a single thought as O’s fingers danced around the edge of her underwear. 

“Please, please fuck me.” She felt his chuckle against the skin of her chest, his kisses and nips trailing down to her cleavage. 

She should’ve been embarrassed at how turned on she was but she wasn’t. Instead of focusing on her internal feelings, Tredicum breathed in pleasurable anxiety as O started to push the soaked material to one side and-

Somebody coughed. 

River really did have the worst timing and she wasn’t alone. 

_ FUCK! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How the fuck are y’all still reading this? Not like I’m complaining but tagging this makes us realise how more fucked up this is. Anyway, we get some Master memories next chapter. Hopefully. 
> 
> Thank you for kudos 
> 
> Stay safe, be kind, love each other
> 
> ~G 🌸💖🌸

**Author's Note:**

> Both Dawn and I really appreciate and love comments and kudos. However, we do not appreciate any negativity. Feedback is welcome however, it does border onto “I hate this, why would you write this” all I can say is: why didn’t you read the tags, man? You knew what you were getting into. 
> 
> Stay safe, love each other, be kind 
> 
> 💖🌸💖


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